Dead Espadas
by Bankai Betty
Summary: DONE. Grimmjow's fight with Ichigo left him dead. Forced into his new afterlife, he finds himself in the Living World. Soliciting help from the only source available to him now requires him asking for it. Nicely. Orihime/Grimmjow/Ulquiorra - Some OOCness
1. Goodbye, Espada Days

Orihime stretched her arms high over her head, smiling out the window overlooking the street and sidewalk below, reveling in the gloriously hot sunny day outside, the perfect beginning to her month long summer break from school. No school or studies for a full thirty days; just beach, ice cream runs, friends, and sun. Lots of sun.

She turned back to her small apartment, giving it a quick look over, nodding in satisfaction that it was clean enough to lounge around for the day. Maybe she'd check out that new ice cream parlor near Tatsuki's house.

She crossed the room, her feet warm on the floor where the sun sprawled across the wood finish, bare toes wiggling as she went. Maybe she'd get a new swimsuit, too. Tatsuki didn't like to shop for clothes, but maybe she could convince her to go along. She flipped her hair into a ponytail and secured it with the yellow scrunchie at her wrist. It was going to be a hot day.

A sudden pounding knock at the door broke her thoughts of summer and heat and shopping, a loud angry knocking that continued as she skipped to the door.

She smoothed her peach tank top and pulled her white canvas shorts over her derrière better, frowning. She wasn't expecting anyone.

"Hello?" she called cautiously.

"Hello!"

Orihime stood straighter, alert, brown eyes widening at the vaguely familiar tone. She unlocked the door and opened it a few inches. She peeked out.

Grimmjow stood in the hall, glaring back at her.

She slammed the door shut, twisting the lock and leaning her back against it, confusion engulfing her. "Go away!"

"I want to talk to you!"

She frowned, recalling the brief glimpse of him. Where was his Hollow's mask? She didn't see it. "No!"

"Open the door, girl!"

She pursed her lips and flinched as he pounded on the door. "Go away, Grimmjow!"

"Open up!"

She wondered why he hadn't shoved a fist through the door or ripped it off the hinges. He hadn't even rattled the doorknob.

"Come on! Open up! I need to talk to you."

Orihime raised an eyebrow. Need?

"I didn't come to hurt you." His tone was less demanding. "Open the door. Orihime."

This prompted her to turn around. She unlocked the door, feeling very much like the cat just before curiosity killed it, opening the door a few inches. She looked up at him.

Grimmjow stared down at her, looking every bit his Sexta Espada self, except he was without the mask, his loose unbuttoned white shirt and black pants definitely not Arrancar-issue. After a few seconds his grim look turned into a glare again.

"I want to come in and talk to you."

Her fingers played nervously on the lock behind the door, shock evident in her wide eyes. "In here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

A low growl came from deep within his throat as his eyes shifted past her to see into the sparsely furnished room. His attention dropped back to her. "Let me in."

She shook her head, stuttering for words. "I don't think --"

He pushed the door open, easily sliding her back a few feet, striding into the room, looking around at the modest but comfortable furnishings. He nodded at the couch, small table, kitchen area and doorways to the bathroom and bedroom. "You've got plenty of room."

Orihime paused closing the door, his words freezing her movements. "What? What do you mean by that?"

Grimmjow made a sweeping gesture to the main and kitchen areas. "This isn't too bad." He dropped onto the couch in one of those manly positions that took up nearly all the room without lying on it, arms spread out along the back top, and looked to her. "You live here alone?"

She nodded, her mind starting to numb as she closed the door to within inches. She blinked a few times, thinking maybe he would vanish back into her nightmares. Nope, he was still there. "Uh, are you lost?"

"Hell, yes. No. Yes." He sat forward, grumbling four-letter words that made her cringe. He rested his elbows on his knees and turned a sharp glare on her. "Are you going to come over here or not?"

She gently shut the door completely, skirting the couch out of his reach as she stepped closer to where he sat. "Uh, I thought you were dead. What are you doing here?"

"I _am_ dead! That damn maggot Ichigo killed me and now I'm stuck here!" He jumped swiftly to his feet, making her shy away. He ripped open his loose shirt. One large hand slapped his abdomen. "Look at that!"

Orihime flinched, blushing a little at his tightly muscled chest and stomach, sans hole. "Oh, yes, that's ... very impressive."

"Impressive my ass!" he bellowed, eyes fierce on her. "Look at it. I'm _filled in_!"

This time she fought off an inappropriate giggle of bewilderment. "Oh, well, yes you are. Now you have a proper six-pack of abs. Very ... uh ... stunning."

He threw both arms up into the air with an exasperated groan. "I'm in Hell, woman! This is where Arrancar go when they die!"

She emitted a yelp and stepped back as he lowered his head and thrust his face within inches of hers.

"Look! No mask!" He straightened as she nodded rapidly. "I'm _human_! Can you believe it? Human!"

This time the giggles caught up with her and Orihime gave in to them. "You're human? Just a _human_?" She stopped laughing at the lethal look crossing his face, backing up a few steps. "I'm sorry. That's too bad, Grimmjow."

"You're damn right it's too bad." He slouched back onto the couch, looking at her expectantly. "Now what do I do?"

The finality in his tone made her stop laughing. "You're stuck here?"

"Yeah, I'm stuck here." His gaze wandered the rooms, resting on the kitchen before returning to her. "Why are you way over there? Come over here."

It was a voice that had demanded her compliance too many times to be ignored, so she obeyed until she was an arm's length away. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, frowning at him, attempting a stance at defending her castle, such as it was. "This is my place, Grimmjow. I didn't invite you here. You can't order me around like we're in Hueco Mundo."

For a moment he looked baffled, but then the tightness came back to his eyes, only to soften some as he got a better look at her apparel. A leering grin crossed his face as he gestured to the tank top and shorts, eyes sweeping up and down her legs. "Hey, I like that outfit a lot better than that white shit Aizen put you in."

"Oh, well ... thanks," she mumbled, her fleeting blush replaced with annoyance as she considered what appeared to be the stages of Arrancar Hell. "Why are you here?"

He sighed heavily, eyes lingering on her bare legs until she finished her blush. "Huh? Oh, I don't know where else to go."

"What?"

"I don't know where to go."

A nauseated feeling caught her stomach, making her grimace. "Where to _go_?"

He nodded, eyes roaming the room, tilting his head to see better into the bedroom across the room. "What's in there?"

Orihime shook her head almost violently. "No ..."

He shrugged and looked back to her. "I need to crash here for a while."

The feeling in her stomach was now working into a spasm at the thought of the large Espada in residence. "You can't."

He scowled. "Why not? You've got room."

"No."

He nodded as she shook her head. He patted the couch back top with both hands. "I'll stay right here. I won't get in the way of whatever shit you do all day."

"No."

He leveled a scowl on her that made her falter in her defense of herself. "Why not?"

"It's inappropriate, for one thing," she said, summoning her courage.

He threw off the comment with a wave of his hand. "You put up that shrimpy tot of a captain and his lieutenant with the jugs." His eyes dropped to her chest. "Why not me?"

Her arms crossed over her own jugs, face coloring again. "Shrimpy tot ... you mean Captain Hitsugaya?" A brief flare of resentment surged in her as her arms tightened. "You can't talk about Captain Hitsugaya that way."

He shrugged, fingers of one hand drumming along the top of the couch back. "If you've got room for two people, you've got room for me."

She swallowed noticeably, taking a few steps to her side. The room seemed to have already shrunken with his hulking presence, even while seated. "No."

"Where else am I going to go?"

She thought furiously. If possession was nine-tenths of the law, Girmmjow already owned her couch. She frowned, standing as straight as she could, mustering her resolve. "You've been to the Living World before. Don't you know anyone else here?"

"That damn Ichigo." He made a move as if to spit, but resisted.

"No, that's probably not a good idea," she said bemusedly.

"Another thing," he opened up one side of his shirt to expose his chest, "they removed my scar, too! Can you believe it? Now I've got nothing!"

She uncrossed her arms and made patting motions with them, eyes shifting to either side of the room where the neighboring apartments were. "Shhh. Not so loud, Grimmjow. I have neighbors."

He looked to the walls and dropped his shirt.

"I'm, I'm sorry about your," she cleared her throat, eyes glimpsing his torso, "your scar, but you'll have to find another place to stay."

His eyes narrowed on her, and Orihime silently called upon Tsubaki -- who refused to answer. "I'll get you later," she mumbled in promise to the power sprite. She returned Grimmjow's pointed look. "How human are you?"

"All."

She collected every nerve in her body and shook her head. "I'd like to help, but I can't."

"Just a few days. Maybe a week," he decided for her, eyes roaming the room again. "Not bad, I guess."

Something in his manner spurred her into action. "No. No. Not here, Grimmjow," she said, now crossing the floor to the back of the couch. "Come on. You have to leave now."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know, but you can't," she said, grabbing one of his arms and trying to pull it up, "you can't stay here. You have to leave." She wrapped both arms around his elbow when he refused to budge and braced her knee against the sofa back to heave him up. He didn't move. "Come on."

He looked down at his arm wrapped in hers, grinning at his appendage pressed against her chest as she strained to get him off the couch. "Keep trying."

Orihime's cheeks turned a bright shade of red and she dropped his arm and backed up a step, one hand pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You can't stay, Grimmjow."

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know. What do Arrancars usually do when they ... die?"

"They go here. And I'm an Espada, not some trash Arrancar, girl."

"My name is Orihime."

"I know, I know. I keep forgetting." He looked down to his shirt loosely folded over his stomach. "And another thing, I keep hearing these noises."

She gave him a wary look, desperation eclipsing her fears. "What kind of noises?"

He patted his tight stomach. "Here. I think it got filled in wrong."

Orihime tried not to look at his bare stomach or chest, but found her attention drifting. "Are you hungry?"

"Hell, I don't know --"

"Don't say that," she snapped, brow furrowing.

"You asked me, so I'm answering," he quipped.

"Not that. The swearing." Her slipping boldness resurfaced. "No swearing."

He looked as if she'd punched him. "No _what_?"

She balled her fists at her sides in determination. "Not in my apartment. No swearing. Please." She smiled a little. "It's a rule here."

He was on his feet, making her shrink back a little. "A rule? You're giving me _rules_?"

She held her ground as best she could. "If you're going to be here," she choked on the next words, the pitching in her stomach worsening, "for a while -- just a little while -- then no swearing."

"Hell, no, I'm not --"

She clapped a hand over his mouth, standing on tiptoe to reach him, surprising both of them.

He glared at her over her fingers.

"No swearing." She slowly removed her hand.

"You and your damn rule ..."

Back came the hand.

This time he grinned behind her hand. "You have soft fingers, Orihime."

Down came the hand, a blush flooding her cheeks. "No swearing, Grimmjow," she said shakily, clasping her hands before her.

He made a non-committal shrug.

She looked to his shirt. "Please button that up."

He glanced down at the shirt ends. "I can't get them to work."

"The buttons?" she said suspiciously. "Didn't you button your own shirts in Hueco Mundo?"

"Do you _remember_ any buttons on that monstrous fu-- "

She threw another hand over his mouth, which was immediately ripped down by his.

" --ing white shit Ulquiorra made you wear? We didn't have buttons." He grinned, raising an eyebrow as he put both hands on his hips, making the shirt splay wide open. "I don't know how to work buttons."

"At least you got the zipper closed," she mumbled, not catching herself before her eyes dropped to his crotch for a split second. She shook her head, glancing back up to him. "Maybe you can figure buttons out later."

He looked disappointed.

"Now about that noise," she said, trying to rally to the new obstacle to her school break, "I think you might be hungry."


	2. Hell's Kitchen

Orihime reached into the top shelf of the overhead kitchen cupboard, acutely aware of the lurking Espada behind her as she brought out a few packages of ramen. She sorted through the different varieties and selected a few.

"What do you like to eat ... Grimmjow?" The words curdled in her mouth. "Chicken, pork, shrimp, or beef?"

"What's the difference?"

His voice was too near, and she found out how near when she closed the cupboard and her set the packages on the counter and her elbow jabbed him in the sternum. She turned around to find him standing way too close.

"Uh, a little room, please," she said, leaning away from him, her back against the counter.

He frowned and backed up a foot, eyes on the cupboard. "That's all food stuff?"

"Yes, yes," she said, easing away from between him and the counter to the small stove. She brought a pot out of another lower cupboard and went to the sink faucet to run a few cups of water into it.

A low growling met their ears and they both looked to his stomach.

Orihime blushed and cleared her throat as she set the pot on the stove. "Could you please try to button that up?"

Grimmjow scowled at the buttons, large fingers fumbling with them for a few seconds. "What's the point?"

"It's expected in acceptable society that men wear their shirts buttoned up, except a few situations." She turned the electric burner on beneath the pot.

"What situations?" He mumbled a curse at the elusive buttons that wouldn't cooperate with him.

"Uh, well . . ." She thought for a moment. "Whenever they're at the beach or when they have a t-shirt on beneath." She smiled at her resourcefulness and turned to see his progress.

There was none. The shirt still hung open.

"Show me," he growled. When she made no move, a look of mild terror slipping over her face, he shrugged. "If you want it buttoned, then show me how to do it."

Her eyes dropped from his to the loose shirt. "It's not that difficult."

A glint came to his eyes as he put his hands on his hips, making the shirt part to expose his torso, grinning at her immediate blush. "Show me."

For the first time she could remember, Orihime felt a hum of a growl start in her throat at his look of amusement. She adjusted the heat under the pot on the stove and stood before him. "You have to put your arms down so the sides of the shirt will meet," she said timidly.

He dropped his arms.

Her fingers pulled the sides of the shirt together at his chest, because there was no way she was starting at the bottom. She fitted one of the ivory buttons through the buttonhole on the opposite side of the shirt seam. "You just slip it through. Like that."

He looked down at the simple procedure. "Do it again."

She gave him a cross look and moved up a buttonhole and button to attach the next pair. "See? Easy."

She stepped away to the small refrigerator and opened the door to it.

Grimmjow's large fingers mangled the first attempt at buttoning. "Hell, it's not working."

She was lost in the depths of the compact refrigerator, arms filling with assorted contents. "You just slip them in."

He nodded, attention on the shape of her legs as she reached inside the refrigerator for something in the back on the top shelf. The button eluded him.

"What do you like in beef ramen soup?"

"Hmm? Oh, whatever goes in it." His chin lifted for a better view as she angled a hip to one side, white shorts slipping up. "What's on the bottom shelf?"

She leaned down, unknowingly giving him a satisfying view of her backside, and then, to his disappointment, knelt at the bottom refrigerator shelf. "Ooh, olives, too."

"Damn," he mumbled at her change in position as she stacked a few more containers into her arms. She rose to face him, kicking shut the door behind her.

She deposited the food items on the counter and looked at his lack of progress with the buttons, a weak frown crossing her face. She sighed. "Want help?"

"You do it."

Her fingers made quick work of the buttons, leaving the last few at the bottom unfinished, making him wonder at the loose ends. She turned back to the now rapidly boiling water in the pot.

He looked down at the buttons. "What about the rest?"

"You can practice on those ones."

"That's all you're doing? That's it?"

She crumpled the ramen noodle blocks in her hands and let them fall into the hot water. "That's it. What else do you want in this?" She nodded to the containers on the counter.

He gave them a cursory look. "Yeah, whatever goes in it."

He was to regret the statement.

She stirred the pot with a large spoon, feeling him standing too close again. She moved away a bit. "I suppose ramen soup won't be enough." She glimpsed him in her peripheral view. "You look like you'd eat a lot."

"It smells good."

A quick smile leapt to her face. "You think so? I'll make my favorite."

She brought a collection of the food items closer to the stove and flipped open the ketchup bottle top. "So, you're all human now?"

A disgruntled sigh escaped him. "Yeah."

She turned the bottle upside down over the pot and squirted a glob of red onto the half-cooked noodles. "No fancy Arrancar tricks anymore?"

"They weren't tricks, Orihime."

"Well, no Espada powers? No ceros? No bankai?"

"No," he said through clenched teeth.

She smiled. "You're just like any other man?"

He snatched the bottle out of her hands, making her flinch away from the bubbling pot. "I'll never be like any other _man_, girl. Get that damn straight through your head right now."

She worked up a couple of nods with a frown and gathered a few more items from the counter. "Okay."

She waited for him to move away from the stove a few feet before returning to it. She opened the jar of green olives and selected several to drop into the pot, followed by a large spoonful of marshmallow crème. The soup turned a creamy pink-beige, bobbing with green.

"Can't you go where the other Arrancars are? Or the other Espadas?"

He crossed his arms, frowning at the soup, stepping closer as she added a large glop of wasabi and a spoonful of cinnamon and sugar. "I don't know where anyone went, if they're even here."

She nodded, breaking two eggs into the hot broth and stirring it until the eggs were cooked, careful not to break the yolks, which cooked whole into roundish yellow shapes. She found a soup bowl in another cupboard and carefully poured the steaming soup into it. She corralled an armful of condiments from the counter and nodded to him.

"I'll make some sandwiches, too, but you can start on this first."

He followed her to the low table at the edge of the kitchen and watched her arrange the bowl and other items before going back to the kitchen counter. He looked at the bowl's contents, a strange smell wafting up to him. Somewhere near his newly filled-in torso a gag reflex welled. He ignored it and looked back to Orihime in the kitchen.

"I just eat it?"

"Yes. I'll bring the sandwiches in a minute."

Grimmjow sat down on one of the cushions at the table and leaned over the bowl, scooping a large spoonful and letting it drop back into the broth. The retching feeling resurfaced. "Are you coming in here or not?"

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "I'll be right there."

He took a large bite of the soup, and the wasabi immediately surfaced, burning through his mouth. He quickly took another larger bite and swallowed down the liquid flames.

Orihime set a platter of sandwiches beside him and sat on a cushion at the table edge a few feet away, a cautious distance where there was no chance of her knee making contact with his beneath the table.

He turned a severe look on her. "You eat this shit every day?"

The thought of covering his mouth with her hand while he was eating was more repulsive than his language, so she only nodded. "You don't like it?"

"It's a pile of . . ." The alien feeling of empathy came over Grimmjow as he looked back at the soulful brown eyes she pegged on him, hopefulness to please overcoming her innate fear of his presence. "Very pungent stuff," he grumbled, looking back at the offensive bowl. He took another bite, his taste buds already deadened to the scorching taste.

She found herself smiling more. "Have a sandwich. They're liverwurst and pineapple." She pushed the plate closer to him on the table. "With real German honey mustard. A gift from my aunt."

He forced down another bite of soup, which proved easier than the first since the trail was already literally blazed. He took a sandwich, the slab of pineapple peeking innocently at him from its nest of liverwurst and mustard. "Why aren't you eating anything?"

"I ate before you got here." She rested her hands on her knees beneath the table.

"What did you have?" He took a large bite out of the sandwich.

"The same as you. Soup."

A new sort of repulsion overwhelmed Grimmjow at the sweet-tart-savory taste of the sandwich. He chewed mechanically, the bite seeming to grow larger in his mouth. "This type of soup?"

She nodded eagerly. "Except it was chicken flavor."

He shoved down the bite of sandwich. "Maybe that would be better," he muttered to himself, eyes on the bowl.

She pushed the containers of soy sauce, yuzu, grape jelly, and peanut butter toward him on the table. "You can add other flavorings to it, too."

"It's got enough flavor."

"Good." Orihime's mind was running along another track, as it usually did, but this time with a purpose. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable with others like yourself, Grimmjow."

He sent her a barbed look. "There is _no one_ like me, dammit. You can fu--"

Her hand slapped the table, making the spoon jump. "No swearing! I mean it. You were a big important Espada at Hueco Mundo but, by golly, this is my place, Grimmjow."

His eyes sharpened on her, the bite of egg yolk and marshmallow fermenting in his mouth as he stared, unchewing. "I can't remember all your rules," he said, swallowing abruptly.

"Maybe I should write _my rule_ down."

He swallowed the last of the wasabi hanging at the back of his throat. "Damn, this stuff is spicy. Like acid-etching."

"_My rule_, Grimmjow."

She inched away at the lethal look darkening his face. She cleared her throat and stood up. "I'll get you something to drink."

Grimmjow coerced the next few bites down his throat past the trail of wasabi. Maybe they'd done something wrong when they filled in his hole. The food didn't seem to want to stay down. Maybe it was a faulty fill-in.

Orihime put a glass of Orange Crush soda before him and took her seat again. Her palm stung from her slap on the table, and she coddled it with her other hand beneath the table.

"Maybe you should make a list of words I'm not supposed to use," he said mockingly, reaching for the second sandwich despite the consequences. "I tend to forget stupid things."

Her eyes narrowed, the tone not lost on her. "Maybe you can find some place else to stay."

Even he knew he was close to undoing his last hour and a half of intimidating coaxing. "I've got nowhere else to go. I won't bother you, and you've got all this room," he said, gesturing with a wide swing of his arm to her modest rooms. He spotted the bedroom doorway again, able to see only her dresser. "What's in there?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. She suddenly sat straighter, smiling so brightly it made him wary. "The Vizards! You can stay with them. They're just like --" She recognized her mistake. "They're a lot like you. Especially Muguruma-san." Her eyes widened as she thought more about the former captain. "Maybe too much like him. Maybe ..."

Grimmjow's chewing slowed as he waited for her to finish, realizing after a few seconds of her blank but blameless expression that she probably wasn't going to finish.

Then her smile snapped back on as she considered the possibilities of not considering the Vizards as an option. "But you two would have so much in common. More than enough to talk about. You'd like it there more than here." She nodded empathically to accentuate her point. "I'm sure he's got lots of battle stories. You two could swap --"

"I know who you're talking about," he said, popping the last of the second sandwich into his mouth. "That guy who hangs out with that belly-aching chic of a lieutenant and that hyper spud with the freckles. No way. No way in hell am I --"

Before he could finish she'd leaped to her feet, knees bumping the table, making his soda rock in its glass. She zipped to the kitchen and returned with a note pad shaped like a tuna and flipped it open, a look of admonishment on her face.

She peeled off the top tuna slip of paper and slid it and a pen to him on the table. "Write down all your favorite curse words."

He laughed, pushing the paper back to her. "Nope. Won't do it."

"This is my --" she began stoutly.

"Yeah, it's your place, but I'm not going to play this stupid word game." He went back to eating the soup despite the worsening flavor as it cooled.

She pulled the glass of soda away as he reached for it, giving him her best frown. "It's only one rule, Grimmjow. In Hueco Mundo you had lots of rules."

His hand closed around the glass and her hand. "Yeah, but I broke those, too."

"One rule."

"It's a silly rule," he said, tugging on the glass, desperately needing something to put out the flames along his esophagus.

She pulled it closer to her. "Promise to abide by my one rule before I say you can stay."

A devilish grin lent his face.

Orihime caught on to her mistake. "Only for a little while, and you have to promise to --"

He tugged the glass closer, bringing her halfway across the table with it. She put a hand on the table top for support, her hand locked beneath his around the glass.

She didn't like focusing on him so closely. "Promise."

A low growl started in his throat, partially to ease the burning there.

She returned as fierce a look as she could manage, and then brought the glass they both held to her lips and drank down all of it. She let the glass bottom meet the table with a slam.

He released her hand and she withdrew and sat back on her side, smiling triumphantly. He frowned at the empty glass, and then at her.

"Promise me no swearing, Grimmjow," she said. Her point was magnified by a loud carbonated belch. She covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh, excuse me."

His eyes dropped to the glass and then the paper, and then he snatched the tuna paper away and grabbed the pen, thumb mashing the end clicker so hard it jammed. "Get me another orange thing," he said, and then added in a strained tone, "please."

She smiled a genuine smile of progress, snagged the empty glass, and jumped to her feet and dashed to the kitchen. She returned immediately and sat down with a full glass of soda.

He finished the list and pushed the paper to her, confiscating the Orange Crush and gulping half of it down without breathing.

Orihime blushed anew at the words on the list as her eyes scanned them. "I don't even know what half of these mean."

He grinned, lifting an eyebrow. "Tell me which ones and I'll tell you what they mean."

She gave him a sheepish look, shaking her head, then looked at the list again, eyes pausing on one word. "Hey, that's part of that scientist guy's name. Shale or something."

"Szayel."

"That's not a curse word," she said shrewdly.

"It's implied." He looked down at the few spoonfuls of soup remaining and decided he was sufficiently stuffed. "Have we got an agreement, Orihime?"

Her fingers tensed on the list, her morals at odds with her sense of survival as she looked back at him. "One day, maybe two, Grimmjow."

He shrugged. "That might do it."

Orihime nodded even as her soul sank within her, because quite frankly she wasn't sure he'd leave if she demanded him to. "But that's all."


	3. Hazard Pay

After the early lunch, the day dissolved from late morning into the afternoon, spent with Grimmjow planted on the couch, watching Orihime skirt the piece of furniture as she washed the few dishes and needlessly straightened rooms. It wasn't until two hours of pretty much nothing had passed that the intricacies of everyday life with her new temporary -- _emphasis on temporary_, she thought -- roommate caught up with her.

"Where're the facilities?"

Orihime's eyes grew wide as they shot to him. She was sitting on a cushion at the far end of the throw rug from him, trying to find interest in the current _Potato_ magazine and ignore her guest without much success.

"My facilities?"

He tossed the _Potato_ magazine she'd forced on him to the side of the couch. "Yeah, facilities. You have them, right? Or is it some community ..." he caught his language before it surfaced, "room down the hall?"

"Oh, no." She hopped to her feet, flinching as he stood up. "This way."

She showed him the small bathroom across from her bedroom, pulling the door shut after he went in when it looked like he wasn't going to. She stood far way from the door, hearing him urinate noisily, shuddering as he finished.

_Please flush_, she thought. _Please, please flush_.

He did. He stepped out just as she was quickly pulling her bedroom door shut behind her.

"What's in there?"

She made a startled '_Yip'_ as she turned, her back pressed to the door. "Nothing. Nothing." She eased away to the small living room with him following. "Uh, maybe you'd be happier somewhere else, Grimmjow." She made a meager smile. "Somewhere like ..." Her eyes lit with an idea. She spun around to find him too close again. She hurried away to her cushion, but didn't sit down. "Keigo-kun's sister Mizuho-san!" She smiled and nodded encouragingly. "She's older, like you, and she took in Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san for a while."

"A girl?" His eyes sharpened on her.

She nodded, but then some of her smile faded, gaze lifting to his blue hair. "But you'd have to shave your head."

He snorted a laugh and plopped back onto the couch. "No way in hell."

"Grimmjow ..." she huffed with a frown.

"What? Oh, your damn rule."

"Grimmjow!"

He tossed a wave at her. "Yeah, yeah. I remember." He leaned back and spread one long arm along the back of the couch, scowling at her. "Why are you way over there?" His fingers drummed on the couch back. "There's plenty of room over here."

Her face wrinkled in a weak attempt at a smile. "Uh, well, I'm fine over here." She bit her lip, looking around the room, spying the newspaper, trying to move things along until he left, realizing suddenly that a day or two also included a _night_. Maybe _two_.

"What are your plans for staying in Karakura Town?" she finally managed, her smile turning hopeful. "You have to have a means of support."

He nodded.

She raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"No."

She clasped her hands in front of her, bare feet shifting against each other. "Well, you can't get an apartment without a good job, and you can't get much of a job without some ... training." She didn't like where her logic was heading. "You'll have to bring in money somehow."

"I've got money," he said matter-of-factly.

Orihime thought she heard wrong, or maybe he answered wrong. "You have money?"

He nodded, standing and reaching into a pants pocket. He pulled out a roll of bills.

She caught her breath at the sight of the thick roll. "You robbed someone? Already?"

"I didn't rob anyone," he muttered, jamming a hand into the other pocket and bringing out a second smaller roll of money.

"You robbed _two_ people?" She took a step back, blinking quickly.

He gave her a sparse glare as he pulled a third roll of bills from the second pocket and went to the low table near the kitchen area. He dropped them on the top. "I didn't rob anyone, dammit, Orihime."

"Please, no --"

"It's a silly rule." He watched her shyly approach the table and him.

"You said you'd --"

"I know what I promised." He stood akimbo, towering over her as she neared the table, eyes on the money. "I'm working on it."

Orihime knelt at the table, looking closely at the money from all angles without touching it. "How'd you get money?"

He dropped to kneel one knee at the corner of the table, unrolling the largest bundle of bills. "Severance pay." He smoothed out the second roll. "Hazard pay." A large hand flattened the last roll. "Living World deployment." A sneer crossed his face. "I would've gotten a loss-of-limb stipend if you hadn't restored my arm."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess," she murmured, slowly calculating the money on the table.

"Don't be stupid. I'd rather have the arm."

She counted the money as best she could without touching it or appear to show interest. He frowned at her wandering attention at the piles of bills before pushing them to her.

"How much?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

He detected a hint of amused surprise. "No."

"You didn't count it?" She fingered the closest stack of bills.

"No."

"Why not?"

He watched her hands spread out the bills into a fan on the table, the words he was about to utter foreign to him. "I don't know how to."

"You can't count?" A giggle escaped her, even as she tried to hide it behind a hand. "You can't _count_, Grimmjow?"

"Shut up. Of course I can count." He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in belligerent tufts. "I can't count your money."

"Oh. Okay." She sifted through the bills of the largest stack as he leaned his elbows on the table, hovering over her until she scooted away a few inches on her knees. "You have --"

"These, too." He shoved the other piles of money at her.

"Oh, okay." Orihime couldn't help but be impressed. "You really have a lot, Grimmjow. You could --" She grabbed his arm in inspiration, and then withdrew her hand just as quickly, moving away a few more inches at her unthinking movements. "You could get a hotel room. That's what you should do." She smiled optimistically, nodding eagerly as his scowl set in deeper.

"Why?"

She shrugged, the money still in her hands. "Because it would be better than here."

A low growl started in his throat, watching her meticulously stack the money in a neat, tall stack on the table. "You said I could stay here."

"That was before I knew you had money." She gave the pile of bills a smile. "That's some retirement plan, Grimmjow."

"Retirement, my ass. If I was --"

"No swearing," she said stoutly, sitting straighter on her knees. A smile suddenly perked her face. "If you were at a hotel you could swear all you want. No rules. See? It's much better at a hotel."

Distaste at her remedy to his situation settled across his face, increasing into a lethal scowl. "I'm staying here."

"But with all this --"

"I need your help," he snapped, resting his arm on his knee, eyes narrowing at the combination of disbelief and slight amusement crossing her face. It was immediately replaced by the same horror from when he'd first arrived four hours ago at her door. "I know, I know. Irony and retribution and all that bullshit, but this --"

"Stop it!" She crossed her arms, making her chest heave up in the tank top, her prim frown of chastisement only making him grin. "The swearing has to stop."

"Bullshit isn't swearing, Orihime," he said with a chuckle, eyes dropping to her fuller chest.

She uncrossed her arms and fought down part of a blush. She reached for the list of words he'd made at lunch. "You didn't list it, but that doesn't mean it's not a swear word."

"Come on. Bullshit? It's an expression. Nothing more." He grabbed the list from her. "About some of these, I'm not giving them all up."

She looked around for the pen that still had the clicker cap impacted in the top. "Can I please have the list?"

His hand tightened on the paper. "Why?"

"I'll only mark the most offensive words or phrases." She tried to add a smile but it was a meager attempt. "Kind of a compromise if you promise to leave after tomorrow."

"You said two days."

"Well, one or two days, and today is one day, and tomorrow will be two days." She nodded in hopes of selling her point. "See?"

"Three days." He pushed the list to her, leaning closer. "Three days, Orihime, and I'll stick to the list."

She let two fingers inch the paper closer to her on the table. "Counting today as a day?"

"Yes."

Her eyes read the list, some of the words making her blush, a few making her feel slightly ill. "Okay." She crossed off a few words. "These aren't so bad." She put a thick line through a few more. "These don't mean anything here, in Japan."

He looked more closely at the inoffensive phrases. "They don't?"

She shook her head, her rudimentary English studies kicking in. "They're not even Japanese. They're English, and they're not insulting."

His eyes found one of the crossed out phrases. "_Mother-father_?"

She shook her head.

He growled. "Nnoitra said it was one of the worst."

She didn't attempt to correct the slur of a cussword for him. "This one is okay, but if you use it, people will only laugh."

"_Your son's at the beach_," he read, scowling at one of his favorites. "That's not bad?"

She shook her head, smiling. "People would just think you like children."

He sat back with a snort. "Children? Fu --"

Her hand slapped across his mouth with more speed than he thought she possessed. "Not _that_ one. That one isn't allowed at all."

He pulled her hand down, his sharp look enough to silently complete the word. "Five words. I'll keep to five words, Orihime."

She reclaimed her hand and looked at the list, reading through it carefully. "Seven."

He shrugged. "Seven."

She circled two. "I get to pick the seven."

He nodded begrudgingly, knowing exactly where her pen was going next.

She circled her seven choices, dreading her compromise even as she did. "One more rule," she said, pen pushing harder on the paper.

"Now what?"

Orihime took a deep breath, not wanting to approach the subject but not wanting to overlook it either. "You stay out of my room."

His eyes shifted to her bedroom, a leering grin breaking his face. "The room with _nothing_ in it?"

"Yes," she said tightly, circling the last word twice. "It's off limits, not matter what."

He sat back, grinning wider at her. "Five days."

Orihime was tempted to use one of the words on the list. "_Five_? The agreement was for three days."

He laughed. "You added another rule."

She frowned, pen point pressing into the paper. "Okay. Five days."

Grimmjow's smile turned victorious. "Deal. Now, where do I sleep?"


	4. The Mirror Has Two Faces

Orihime awoke the next morning to one of the worst nightmares since returning from Hueco Mundo. She sat up bleary-eyed in her bed, rubbing the tangle of bright auburn hair at one temple as she tried to sort her thoughts. The morning sun was eking across the floor as she sighed. Just a dream.

Until she looked at her closed bedroom door, and then the events of the preceding day rushed her.

"No, no, no," she mumbled as she tripped out of bed and pulled her pajama slip as low over her legs as it would go.

Tempted as she was to peek out the door to see if there was an enormous Espada sleeping on her couch, she resisted and hurriedly dressed first. She pulled the thick cable-knit yellow print tank top on and whisked up a pair of navy shorts.

She opened the door with a creak and angled her head out to see the small main room. The couch was vacant, but there was a pillow at one end.

She smiled. He was gone. Away in the night. She opened the door wider, pushing a hand through her hair to settle the disarray of tendrils further back. She sighed and headed across to the bathroom.

A shriek broke from her as she found Grimmjow standing at the shower, one large hand twisting the shower nozzle. "Agh! You're in here!"

"Obviously." He turned to look at her, chuckling at her unkempt appearance. "Shit, girl, you look battle-worn."

She frowned at him and his proximity to her necessities. "You have to shut the door when you're in here, Grimmjow."

He shook his head and gave the shower nozzle a final turn. "I'm not doing anything. How's this thing work?"

Her face fell at the realization of a roommate and his personal regimen. "You just twist the knobs underneath to get hot and cold water. Gently," she added, eyes going to the plumbing fixtures. "Don't rip them off."

"I didn't plan to."

For a moment she stood in the doorway and he looked back at her. She glanced at the medicine cabinet. "I need to be in here. Alone, please."

"Yeah, I'm done."

She moved out of the doorway to let him pass. "Do you have any ... luggage?"

"No."

She stepped into the bathroom, realizing he'd already been about his morning rituals. "No clothes?"

"Just what's on me."

She frowned at her hair brush on the sink vanity. "You'll need more." She picked up the brush, eyes widening as a sick feeling rose in her throat. Were those blue strands of hair embedded in the bristles? "And your own toiletries."

He hovered in the doorway, watching her finger the brush. "What's to eat out here?"

"Uh, I'll get ..." Her eyes went to the medicine cabinet, wondering how safe her toothbrush was. "Go ahead and find what you want. I'll fix you something when I get out."

He nodded. "Hurry up."

Orihime shut the door on him, twisted the lock, and immediately reached for the medicine cabinet. Inside was her usual assortment of things -- all slightly rearranged. She clutched her toothbrush from its Tiki god holder. "At least you're dry."

* * *

Shopping with Grimmjow wasn't something Orihime was ready for, nor would she ever be. He wasn't going to blend in anywhere in her neighborhood, and she didn't want to go anywhere the store clerks would recognize her. She thought he'd fit right in in the Harajuku shops, but that required a train ride to the other side of Tokyo, and she didn't think Grimmjow on a train for any length of time was safe. Not for anyone.

After a hasty breakfast of rice and apricots topped with peanut butter they headed out to the market streets, far away from Orihime's usual stomping grounds near her apartment building.

They passed along on the sunny sidewalk as a hot day warmed the air, Grimmjow returning glares to anyone who dared give him a wondering, curious look, of which there were many, until he paused at a window display at a boutique where the headless mannequins were posed, arrayed in all their bra and panty finery.

"What the hell is all this?" he demanded of Orihime as she stopped a few feet ahead of him, gesturing to the stump-necked forms.

"Oh, those are advertising underclothing," she said, waving him to the side as he blocked nearly the whole sidewalk of pedestrian traffic.

He looked over the female forms in detail, glancing back to her. "They're wearing less than Hallibel on a modest day."

"It's _under_clothing."

"All this is underneath?" He glanced at her, sizing her up and down for a long moment. "You're wearing all this stuff, too?"

She backed up a step, blanching at the scrutinizing look on his face. "Well ... yes." She shook her head at the hot pink and neon green bras laced with ribbon and sequins. "But not exactly like ... that."

He put his hands on his hips, lifting an eyebrow as his gaze settled on her shirt. "How're yours different?"

She frowned, blushing a little as she crossed her arms to dissuade his attention. "That's none of your business." She nodded and turned on the sidewalk to continue their trip, compromising her last statement. "You'll probably need underclothes, too."

She looked back when he said nothing, finding him still in front of the display window, but now studying the three Korean young women who'd paused to point and comment on the mannequins, one with a camera in hand.

"Grimmjow," Orihime said.

"In a minute," he said, making an examination of the girls, comparing their short skirts and tops to what he'd seen in the display case.

The girl with the camera chatted rapidly, giggling as Grimmjow watched her, until she pointed the camera at him and snapped a picture.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he yelled, momentarily blinded.

Snap. Snap.

He snatched the camera, nearly bringing the girl with it, roaring a string of the words from the list as she let go and leaped back. The camera began to crack in his hand.

"No!" Orihime launched at his hand holding the camera, trying to pull it down as he held it over her head and looked at it, blinking. "Give it back to her."

The camera groaned, case cracking. "Did you see what she did?" He looked at the camera for a moment and then tossed it to the girl, who caught it and shouted him down in her own language.

"He's sorry," Orihime said, bowing quickly to the women and smiling as they gave her and her traveling companion a dirty look, moving along on the sidewalk. "Sorry! Welcome to Japan!"

"Do you know them?" he asked as she turned to him with a fuming expression.

"No. They're visitors and you just attacked their camera, Grimmjow." She shook her head and tugged on his sleeve. "You can't handle people like you used to."

He fell into step beside her, pulling his sleeve from her hand. "What did she flash a light at me for?"

"She was taking your picture." Orihime tightened her ponytail scrunchie at the back of her head as heat radiated off the sidewalk. "Your image. Maybe she likes what you looked like and wanted to take a photo home with her." Her eyes rose to him. "It's a compliment."

He mumbled something she couldn't entirely hear. She didn't ask, instead hurrying to the next store where the front advertised clothing and accessories. "Here. Let's try this one."

It was one of the larger stores on the block, carrying men's and women's selections in moderately fashionable styles. For a few moments Orihime and Grimmjow waded into the cramped aisles of racks and circular displays. After two minutes she realized he was going to touch everything within reach.

"That's for girls," she said as they passed a silky blouse on a round rack of discounted items. He dropped the blouse sleeve.

"It's soft," he said, following her as she wound their way to the back where the men's section was stationed.

She smiled as they paused at several racks of shirts, folded pants, and packaged underclothing and socks. Her smile fell at the last few choices. She turned to find Grimmjow too close, towering over her as he reached for a package of underwear in a plastic bag at the wall.

She ducked out from under his arm and took a few steps back. "I'll just let you ... do your shopping. I'll be over here."

"Stay here." He ripped open the bag.

"No, no," she said quickly, zipping a hasty look to the front of the shop, her voice lowering as the clerk glanced their way. She halted his hands as he prepared to pull out a pair of boxers. "You can't open it until you buy it."

"I want to look at them first." He withdrew a pair of underwear and shook out the blue material dotted with black spots.

Orihime's face flushed crimson as he turned them one way and then another, and then gasped as he held them up to himself at the waist.

She turned her back, stepping away to another rack. "You can't do that here, Grimmjow," she hissed, head tilted over her shoulder.

He wadded up the boxers and stuck them back in the bag. "Come over here. What else should I get?"

She reluctantly eased back to where he stood, sending a forced smile to the few other shoppers that were making their way to the men's section. Grimmjow tucked the package under his arm to use both hands to push the shirts on hangers across a rack.

"Don't open anymore packages until you buy them," she said. "If you do, they'll make you purchase them, even if you don't want them."

"Like hell," he said, holding up a khaki shirt by a hanger.

She nodded at the shirt. "What size do you wear? I'm thinking large."

"That and more," he said, grinning as he sorted through the shirts. He held up another.

She nodded. "Ooh, light teal. Good choice. That'll bring out..." She shuddered at the words she had been about to utter. This was the former Sexta Espada, not one of her male friends. She finished anyway. "The blue of your eyes."

He leveled a blue glare on her. "Now you're being facetious."

"No, I'm not." She smiled helpfully. "The color is good for you."

He grabbed the two shirts and a few more and turned around to where a line of shelves two high were mounted against the wall. He pulled off a pair of pants and held them up for her to see. "What about these?"

"Oh, well, I don't know." She didn't, and she didn't want to look him long enough to determine if they would fit him. Her eyes roamed the men's vicinity, spying the narrow louvered door to the small dressing room. "You can try them on first. Make sure you get the right size."

He glanced to the dressing room. "In there?"

"Yup."

He grabbed several more pairs of pants and a more few shirts and followed her to the louvered door.

She knocked on it, and hearing no answer, opened it and looked inside. A full length mirror on the wall, a small seat against one corner of walls, a few hooks on one wall. She nodded. "See? Go on in and see which clothes fit, Grimmjow."

He glanced into at the small room. "Come on," he said, one hand on her back as he went in.

Orihime held her ground. "Oh, no! I can't come in." She pushed away from him, closing the door as soon as he was all the way inside. "Just you. That's how it's done."

She quickly turned around, finding three out of the five other shoppers watching her questioningly. She inched away from the door, pretending to find interest in the closest shelf of items before realizing they were packages of underwear. She shied away and found a rack of shirts.

"Damn, what the hell's wrong with all the zippers?" came a mumble from behind her, muted by the closed door.

She pretended not to hear.

Another string of full-blown curse words she'd circled on the list rented the air.

Every head in the shop looked her way.

"Grimmjow," she said as loudly as she dared, stepping back a foot nearer to the door. "You can't use that kind of language here."

The door jerked open a crack and he glared at her. "The damn zipper's jammed." He glanced at the hopelessly stuck zipper of the black pants he was trying on.

She refused to look down at his problem, her hands balling into small fists. "Then try a different pair."

The door pulled shut.

She turned back to the rack of shirts, hands sifting through them without purpose. A few seconds later the door behind her opened again.

"What the hell are these?" Grimmjow demanded.

She refused to turn around. "Pants? Shirts?"

"Hey."

She shook her head. "Just try on the ones you like best, and --"

A large hand closed over her shoulder and Orihime found herself yanked inside the small dressing room. Grimmjow slammed the door shut and slid the latch as she stifled a yelp.

Horror leapt into her eyes as she instinctively reached for the door, which was blocked by his large frame.

"I can't be in here!"

"You already are." Grimmjow tugged at the sides of the khaki shirt where it stretched open across his chest. "These aren't buttons. How do they work?"

She pressed her back to the wall opposite him in the tiny room, so close her knees were nearly touching his as he bent to see himself in the mirror, brushing a hand through his hair. "I'm not supposed to be here," she said meekly, glancing around for a security camera she was sure lurking somewhere. "This is for men only, Grimmjow."

He frowned at her, his muscular chest a foot away from her face. "Why won't these button? There're no holes."

Her eyes went to the shirt ends. "They're snaps." She deftly snapped a few with shaky fingers. "Now let me out."

He was looking in the mirror. "Snaps? Too noisy." He fumbled a few snaps, cursing the entire length of the not-allowed list.

She made a squeaking noise. "No swearing."

A mischievous grin claimed his face. "We're not at your place, Orihime. No rules here."

She growled as best she could, moving as he turned to see the back of the shirt, dodging his shoulder. "That's not fair."

He shrugged off the shirt, making her duck, blush, and cover her eyes. "What are you so shy about?"

"You're undressing," came her muffled reply behind her hands.

"Grow up."

"You're making me invade your privacy."

"I don't mind."

She flinched as he pulled her hands from her eyes, turning her to look in the mirror. There they were, together, side by side, he in a blue denim shirt, she in a blush.

"That looks good on you," she said, clearing her throat, her flushed face replaced by a bloodless cast. "Can I leave now?"

"One more pair of pants."

An "_Eep!"_ escaped her as he shucked off his pants, making her turn and bury her face against the wallboard.

"How the hell do you get through life hiding every time something comes along?" he asked near her ear, tossing his pants to the corner seat.

She mumbled something.

"I didn't hear all that." He spun her around and pulled her hands down.

She forced herself to look, the mental damage less severe than she expected. "Well, the zipper is working." Her eyes rose from the unbuttoned clasp above it. "You have to fasten the top clasp."

When he didn't move, staring at the closure, she said, "It's just like a button, Grimmjow."

A moment of cursing and mangled attempt.

She glanced to the mirror, one of the more hideous sights catching her by surprise. Never in all her stay at Hueco Mundo had she expected to see him beside her reflection.

"Ha!"

Her attention snapped back to him as he let his shirt fall over the pants closure, fully fastened shut.

"Done."

"Good. Let me out."

She practically burst out of the dressing room as soon as he let her open the door, facing down the handful of people staring back at them. She blushed pink-red as they went to the cashier to pay.

Noon passed as Orihime and Grimmjow found their next stop. She thought to outpace him, but -- if it were even possible -- she wasn't sure he wouldn't find his way back to her apartment.

"What the hell do you do all day?" he asked as they passed a group of adolescents crowded around a poster advertising an anime convention to be held the following week.

Her attention was on the poster artwork. "Ooh, _Fruits Basket_, my favorite. It's so romantic," she said dreamily. "Kyou-kun is so cute. I know he scowls a lot, and he's grumpy, but those soulful brown eyes and that irritated look he always wears -- that's just so sweet."

"You're stupid." Grimmjow followed her attention to the orange-haired boy and dark-haired girl of the anime series she was ogling at one corner of the poster. "So what do you do all day? Look at those silly people in the magazines?"

She frowned up at him as they moved on down the sidewalk. "_Potato_ is not a silly magazine, and the people in it are big celebrities. Singers, actors, big names." She sighed. "I usually spend time with my friends."

He shrugged. "Friends are over-rated."

She gave him a sharp look that turned sympathetic. "No, they're not. Good friends are the best."

He shrugged again, this time half-heartedly. "_You_ have good friends."

"Didn't you have friends in Hueco Mundo?"

"Not good ones. Just ones that wanted to unseat me as Sexta Espada."

She almost felt sad for him. "Those aren't really friends, Grimmjow."

He shook his head, looking down the street to where the smells of something enticing made his stomach growl.

Orihime looked to his abdomen beneath his old clothes. "I guess its lunch time."

He nodded, focusing further down the sidewalk, searching for the source of the aroma of grilled something. "If I buy us something to eat, you'll eat it, right?"

The surprise was evident on her face. "You? Buy?"

"Yes," he said, shifting his bag of new clothes to his other hand, scowling. "Me. Buy. Food. Damn, girl, I eat your food. I owe you some in return."

She nodded. "Okay."


	5. Nice WordSpeak

They found lunch at a kiosk selling rice balls and ordered two of each variety to eat on the way to their next destination. The stares around them had grown a little less compulsive as they made their way to the trendier part of town, the short strip mall promising more anonymity for Grimmjow's appearance that deviated from the norm.

Orihime pushed their progress, hoping to avoid seeing anyone she knew from school. She munched on the leaf-wrapped rice ball, eyes darting ahead of them on the sidewalk, hoping to see any familiar faces before they saw her, and her escort.

"You'll need some necessities," she said, thinking aloud. "Daily grooming things." She stopped at a pharmacy along the sidewalk, sticking the last bite of rice in her mouth, chewing the large bulge in her cheek.

Grimmjow watched, not quite disgusted, but finding it one of her less attractive moments. "These are boring. Bland."

She looked up, nodding slightly. "The ones at the other side of town are better." She swallowed abruptly and pointed to the store door. "Anything you open, break, or touch for too long you have to buy."

He shrugged as he looked up at the store sign and pushed through the door, sending her ahead of him.

For a long moment Orihime looked at the aisles, mind sifting through what she thought Grimmjow would need for the next few -- _few_ -- days.

"Shampoo, soap, deodorant," she said, thinking quickly, then glancing to him, "razors, shaving cream, toothbrush, paste, what else do you need?"

He surveyed the aisles, scowling at the line of elderly people at the pharmacy at the back of the building. "Is everyone here old? Damn, they line up to die?"

"Shh," she said, shaking her head and nodding for him to follow her down an aisle to one side where the cosmetics were displayed. "They're getting their medication and prescriptions. You have to be nice about what you say in public, Grimmjow."

He'd paused at the packaged make-up on the racks and pegs at one wall, the glamorous smiling, heavily made-up faces of models staring back at him in the advertisements. "Who are all these people?"

Orihime backtracked to where he was. "Women selling name brand cosmetics."

He snatched an advertisement placard from its post above one display demo. "She looks hideous."

With a glance down the aisle ways she tried to take the ad from him. "You can't rip things off the advertisements." She tried to attach it back to the display, his hand still on it. "It's supposed to stay on."

"She looks like a clown."

Orihime set the placard back on another display shelf and tugged at his sleeve to move him along. "There's nothing in this aisle you need." She dropped his shirt and skipped ahead. "Here." She made a gesture to the next short aisle where deodorants were aligned. "Everyone needs deodorant."

He met her there, eyes skimming the shelves of brightly packaged products. He took one, opened the cap, sniffed it, and set it back. "I don't like that one."

She nodded, standing taller to see the store's assistant manager watching them from the front of the store. Maybe they should have left Grimmjow's shopping bag of clothes at the front.

"This one stinks." He set another on the shelf and reached for a third. "Lame . . . Stinks . . . Rotting . . ." He tossed several more onto the top shelf and opened one of musk. "Better."

She nodded quickly, seeing the assistant manager head their way. "That one's good. Let's move on."

Grimmjow dropped the deodorant into his bag and followed her down the aisle. She paused before the racks displaying shaving creams, gels, and razors.

"Shaving stuff. Aftershave is with the cologne on the other side."

"Ahem," the assistant store manager said, a small thin man who seemed to shrink as he looked up at Grimmjow. "I saw you put that in your bag without paying, sir."

Orihime's eyes snapped up to Grimmjow. "You did?" Before he could answer, the assistant manager continued.

"I saw it, young lady. We prosecute shoplifters to the fullest --"

"He's from out of town," she said quickly, smiling enthusiastically. "He's my cousin. He's ... from Norway," she added, one hand holding up a halt to Grimmjow's face as he began to say something. "He's doesn't speak Japanese." She looked up at his narrow glare on her. "Do you, _Borg_? Oh, yes, right, no Japanese." She pulled his shopping back closer, rummaging through it to find the deodorant. "We have to pay for this first, Borg." She held up the deodorant for the manager to see. "Borg Skagstaad. He's sorry. He really is. We forgot to get a shopping basket."

Grimmjow did his best to remain silent.

The manager's eyes squinted behind his glasses, estimating the Espada coolly.

"How about," Orihime suggested, taking a moment to pull the shopping bag closer from Grimmjow, looking to the manager, "we leave this with you until we finish shopping, and pick it up when we check out?"

She handed the bag to the manager. He took it.

Grimmjow snatched it back from the man, his glare on Orihime.

She tried to take it back from him, a tug-of-war she knew she wasn't going to win, praying he wouldn't say anything. She finally stood on tiptoe to reach his neck and cupped her hand, whispering mutedly to his ear.

The store manager raised an eyebrow at them, one hand on the cell phone at his shirt pocket.

Grimmjow let her have the bag, and she handed it back to the assistant manager.

He cleared his throat, attention shifting between them. "Make sure he pays for everything before leaving the store," he said, grip tightening on the bag. "This will be at the front when you checkout."

"Thank you!" she said, bowing, relieved as the man turned back down the aisle. "Thank you!"

Grimmjow wiped her hand down as she made a short wave to the man's retreating form. "You just let him take my shit? I paid for that. Damn, girl, if this --"

"Shh," she said, her hand halfway to his mouth before she stopped herself. "You can't put things in the bag until they're paid for."

"What's all this shit about not knowing the language?" He let her tow him back down the aisle to round the endcap to the next row, her hand grabbing a package of disposable razors and a can of shaving cream on the way. "You think I'm dumb?"

She whirled around, a stout frown on her face. "Of course not. But there are rules --"

"You and the damn rule thing." He looked over the items on the shelves.

"I didn't make up these rules." She watched him rifle through the aftershave and cologne boxes and bottles.

"What do all these do?" He held up a bottle of aftershave in a cobalt blue bottle.

"They help you smell better after shaving," she said timidly.

He gave her a disbelieving glance. "What's the point?"

"Uh, well, that's just what men do." She smiled a little. "Didn't people try to smell," she refrained from saying _nice_, "good in Hueco Mundo?"

"Just Ichimaru. And Szayel."

Her smile dropped.

"And a few of the females." He twisted off the bottle's top, breaking the seal. "So it was rumored. Damn Hallibel never let anyone get close enough to know for sure."

"No, don't open it," she said, looking to the front of the store where the assistant manager was watching them hawk-like.

Grimmjow took a whiff of the potent aftershave, made a face, sneezed, and held it out for her to smell.

She sniffed it, nodding at the heady scent. "That's good." She ventured a point of curiosity, figuring she could run if the need arose. "Hallibel never smelled good?"

He grinned, glancing at her chest until a blush bloomed over her face. "Never had to get that close to Hallibel to see her goods, Orihime."

She crossed her arms over her tank top, sorry she'd asked. He watched her shirt heave up.

"That doesn't cover them much." He gave the bottle another sniff. "Why would you want to cover them up? Not many proportionately sound racks around, you know. You always act like you don't like them."

At once complimented and accosted, she dropped her arms, hands balling into small fists at her sides. "You're not supposed to comment on a woman's..." she fought for the less clinical but expressive word, "_accoutrements_."

He replaced the cap, tightening it until the threads nearly split. "Is that what they're called here? More boring than the rice balls." He bent to see the lower row of aftershave, _mother-fathering_ over the more fancifully written labels.

"It's not accepted to make those sorts of remarks here, Grimmjow," she said.

He looked up, his angle making his view of her face nearly eclipsed by her accoutrements. "It's a _nice_ thing to say, Orihime. A compliment." A string of oaths coursed from him. "What's wrong with stating the obvious? Honesty and all that bullshit. Sure, Hallibel and Nel have got a substantially disproportionate advantage over you, but, hell, girl, you've got a symmetrical balance they're lacking." His gaze fell to her hips. "Natural broadness to offset the top without being --"

"Stop it!" she nearly shrieked, a few of the curse words he'd used lately tempting to surface in her speech. "Those aren't compliments here. Even if you don't care," she said, crossing her arms and bending to bring her face nearer to his, "they're not to be used."

A rare look of confusion lent his face. "Is that a rule?"

"Yes."

"Yours, or communal, or societal?"

"Yes." She thought again. "The last two."

"Maybe you should make another list." He knocked over half a row of cologne boxes domino-style as he reached for a blue box with a ship on it. "What else do I need?"

One toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, a bar of blue soap, and bottle of shampoo later Orihime figured they had the basics. She looked at the assorted products in blue packaging in Grimmjow's arm, deciding he was primarily shopping by color.

She was exhausted for reasons she couldn't pinpoint, not since he'd done a dot-to-dot along her anatomy. She sighed as they left the checkout stand, with his bag of new clothes and without a police report.

Orihime looked to the westward bound sun on the edge of town, dreading the evenfall and impending night. "Let's go home."


	6. Taking Lumps

Orihime awoke the next hot, sunny morning to noise of the shower running. She opened one sleepy eye to look at her bedroom door, sighing that it was still closed, and plunged her head back into the billowy pillow, pulling the sheet around her better, dreading the moment she'd have to leave her room. Her sanctuary.

But it was Day Three.

Closer to day Five.

By the time she got dressed and into the kitchen Grimmjow had made a run through most of his new toiletries, appearing at the kitchen sink where she was perking rice in the rice cooker. She looked to him now dressed in some of his new clothes, pushing her unbrushed hair over her shoulder as he stepped too near, making her take a step back.

"Tank top, shirt, and cargo pants," she said with a nod at his appearance, easing away as he frowned at the rice cooker bubbling white froth around the clear plastic lid's round edges. "How very..." She surprised herself as she realized who. "Muguruma-san of you."

She forgot he knew the name, his face darkening as she scrambled for another term. "Very muscular looking."

He pulled at the black tank top beneath the unbuttoned cotton teal shirt, his stomach already rumbling. His eyes dropped over her pink cap-sleeved shirt and yellow skirt that fell just above her knees before flicking back to her mussed hair. He ran a hand through his still wet hair that appeared darker, slicked back but still standing up in unruly waves. "I didn't get a brush yesterday."

She smiled weakly, nodding at what he wasn't saying. _More blue hair in the brush's bristles_, she thought dourly. "We'll get one today," she said as brightly as she could. She tapped the rice cooker lid. "I'll be right back."

She skirted him and went to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door. She did her usual morning routine in half the time, a quick raking of her hair and a scrunchie-held ponytail, minimal mascara that promised to melt off in the day's heat, and then snapped up the pace even more when she heard a knocking at the apartment door.

She was out the bathroom door before the fifth knock sounded, slipping past Grimmjow as he made his way there.

She held her hands up, trying to shoo him back without saying anything or touching him.

He only gave her a severe, puzzled look.

"Don't," she said as he began to speak, her voice hushed. "Please don't say anything."

He didn't nod, so she turned and opened the door a small crack.

In the hall Tatsuki, Ichigo, and Keigo stared back at her, all in swimsuits, shorts, tank tops, and carrying colorful beach towels. She groaned.

"Hey, Orihime," Tatsuki said with a grin, moving as if to enter. "Come with us to the beach."

"Hi," Orihime said slowly, mind racing. She didn't let her friend push the door open. "Beach?"

Tatsuki frowned as the door remained mostly shut. "What's going on? You okay?"

"Yes," Orihime said, eyes fastened on Ichigo as he leaned against the opposite hall wall with his arms crossed, Keigo beside him. "Oh, the beach." She sighed, working up a sniffle. "I can't."

"Why not?" Tatsuki leaned closer. "Are you all right? You sick?"

"Yes." Orihime bit her lip at lying to her best friend. "I can't go. I have a really bad cold." She sniffed, her pining look settling on Ichigo. _Why'd he'd have to come by today?_ Why did anyone have to come by today? "Don't come near. I might be contagious."

Tatsuki patted her on the head. "I'll come in and stay with you. I'll make you tea and soup."

"Oh, no." Orihime blocked one foot behind the door edge at the floor when Tatsuki pushed on knob. "I'll be fine. I'll go with you some other time." She sighed, watching Ichigo spare her part of a grin. "I'll be better soon."

"You sure?" Tatsuki put a hand to Orihime's forehead.

"Yup. Better soon. In two days."

"Maybe some sunshine would make you feel better," Ichigo added.

Orihime smiled and blushed, wishing to revel in the suggestion until she felt Grimmjow breathing on the back of her neck. She stood straighter, nearly bumping into him. "I'll stay here and recuperate. By myself. Alone. I'll be better in two days."

"If you're sure," Tatsuki said, backing away from the door.

"I'm sure. Two days."

"Take care of yourself," Ichigo called as they headed back down the hall.

She groaned, wistfully watching them go. "I will! Have fun!" She sighed after Ichigo's retreating form. "At the beach." She closed the door and looked up at Grimmjow standing a few inches away.

"You lied to your friends."

She nodded as a smirk crossed his face. She locked the door. "Yes. I had to." She moved away and went to pout at the rice cooker. "I couldn't tell them you were here."

"I thought you didn't do anything wrong, Orihime Inoue." He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, watching her watch the cooker. "Ever."

She turned the pout on him, and then let it drop, sighing again. "Everyone does something wrong at sometime. But you're supposed to try not to."

"Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"Still pointless."

"It makes you a better person."

He laughed, making her recoil slightly. "Hell, what has trying to be a better person ever got you?"

"What has not ...?" She didn't finish, eyes widening as she took another step away from him, needlessly straightening the dish towel, wiping the rice sputter from the counter.

His eyes narrowed on her, his mind completing her remark in his head.

She cleared her throat. "It's got me friends."

"It got you _stuck_ in Hueco Mundo."

The barb struck deeper than she thought it should. Her fingers pinched the rice cooker lid handle, as much of a glare as she could summon leveled on him despite the height difference. "It was worth it. Good friends are priceless."

He volleyed between saying anything -- something more cutting, something nearly apologetic -- as she dipped out scoops of rice onto two plates and brought them and an armful of condiment jars and bottles to the low table, him trailing.

"Stop trying to do it all," he muttered, plucking a few bottles from her grasp as the ketchup and pancake syrup starting to slip from her arms.

It was not quite an opportunistic choice of aid, but Orihime ignored his nearness and set the table with their breakfast.

For a full three minutes it was silent, neither speaking, the only sound the muted stampede from children running down the hall outside her apartment. She squirted the syrup in a swirl over her plate of mounded rice and then dotted it with ketchup and a waffle-design drizzle of wasabi mayonnaise. Grimmjow watched, and followed suit with his own rice.

"As soon as you get a job of some sort, it'll be easier to get an apartment," she said, munching on a heaping bite, scooting his earlier comment from her mind. "You can get a hotel room until then. We'll look through the employment listings in the newspaper. What are you good at doing?"

He let a snide remark pass at the advantageous opening and took a large bite of the rice. She was an easy target, sometimes making it too easy to trample her innocent comments. "Never been anything but an Espada. Don't think that's going to help too damn much here."

"The list, please." She sighed, tossing through her rice with a chopstick, thinking. "Okay, you have no experience. That means manual work, probably. What are your strengths?" She sat straighter on her knees, smiling despite the bulge of rice in her cheek. "That's it. You're strong, so maybe we -- you -- can find something for that. Like dock work." Far away from here, she added silently. Her smile tempered. "But there are no docks around here."

"What the hell's a dock?"

"The list..."

"Hell? It's a -- "

"Grimmjow, you promised."

A low growl started in his throat despite the pile of overly-flavored rice he was swallowing. "All right. What's a dock?"

She giggled a little. "A dock? You know, where the ships unload goods in a harbor."

The term put him at a loss. "In a harbor."

"On the seaports ..." She nodded slowly, comprehension building. "It was all sand in Hueco Mundo, wasn't it?"

He reluctantly nodded, chewing through a syrup-laden bite of rice.

She explained docks and ships, seaports and fish, and about everything else she could think of in the next eight minutes, eventually rounding the subject around to beaches.

"Where your friends went," he said as she collected their empty plates when they'd finished eating. She stood up.

"Exactly." She nodded, her steps quickening ahead of him as they went to the kitchen.

"Your friends went to unload ships at a dock at the beach."

Orihime shook her head slowly. If she couldn't explain it clearly enough, maybe her aspirations as a teacher weren't such a good career option. "That's not exactly how it works." She rinsed the dishes in the sink. "I'll bet they'd have an opening for something at the Tsukiji fish market. They need lots of men there."

Her happy nod made him wary.

* * *

After Orihime had her hasty shower and put her hair up in a fresh ponytail, they took a train ride into central Tokyo to found themselves in the bustle of the inner city during the market's slower hours of early afternoon. Orihime hesitantly led the way, not knowing quite where she was going, having only been there twice before with her aunt, but the sprawling market was easy enough to find by scent alone. It emerged beyond the station as most of the foot traffic was heading in the opposite direction.

They arrived inside as the market warehouse was closing to be cleaned, the sprinkler trucks swishing their way through the outer market vendor shops and stalls. Orihime hung back at the smell of fish, seafood, and sanitizer as they made tentative progress to the central warehouse enclosures.

_Maybe it wasn't such a good idea_, she thought as they skirted the outer shops that were a maze of counters, tables, and butchering stations, the floor littered with thick cables, lit by the strong industrial dome lights overhead.

Grimmjow surveyed the area, eyes sharp on any movement that happened.

"Closed!" a man's voice boomed from behind them. "Come back tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. for public."

Orihime and Grimmjow turned to see a burly, short man with muscular arms standing behind them in a water-spattered blue plastic apron. The man grinned as she turned, a quick sizing up and nod of approval.

She smiled instantly in return, bringing a wider grin from him, and bowed. "Hello. My friend here is looking for work. We were wondering if you possibly have anything available for him?" She glanced up at Grimmjow and back to the man, nodding fervently. "He's very strong, and fast, and learns easily."

The man put his meaty hands on his thick hips, scrutinizing Grimmjow. "That true?"

Grimmjow nodded.

Orihime looked hopefully between them and edged away. "I'll just let you two talk it out."

Before either man could say otherwise, she scooted to another table, and then to another, watching the few people she could see farther on as they squeegied the floor with sanitizer. She began to calculate.

An eight hour shift, plus a twenty minute commute either way, equaled about ... enough waking hours to make the next two days bearable.

She smiled. Then frowned. What if they asked for identification? Did Grimmjow have any? An ill feeling clenched her stomach. If he had any, where would he have gotten it? Could it be legitimate? If he didn't have any, where...

Urahara's name leapt to her mind. She shook it free. The shopkeeper wouldn't be up for aiding a former Espada. She glanced to where Grimmjow and the man were both nodding, and then they parted, Grimmjow heading to Orihime.

She couldn't tell if the news was good or bad, not by the grim look on his face.

"Well?" She smiled in anticipation as he met her. "What did he say?"

He gave her perky face a firm scowl. "He said to be here at five to see what's available. He says I can lump trucks."

"Oh? Oh..." Her eager, vigorous nod slowed, confusion taking hold. "What does that mean?"

"Not what it sounds like," he grumbled as they headed through the rows of tables and stalls. "Lumping. Unload trucks. Paid by the case or load." He shrugged. "Sounds simple enough."

She gave him a longer look as they reached the exterior bay doors that were ground level at the main entrance that opened back into the sunny afternoon. "That'll be good. You won't be bored all day, and you'll be making money, and you'll meet new people." She smiled, the feature turning slightly worried until she hitched it up more. "Uh, you have to be nice to people, Grimmjow."

"Dammit, I am nice," he snapped, pushing her elbow and her to one side as she tripped over a crack in the asphalt parking lot. "Haven't I been nice to you since I got here?"

She nodded in agreement, mostly from the threatening look he gave her, and then thought more about his actual words. "Yes. You have," she said slowly, adding, "unlike how you were. Comparatively, for the most part. How you were in Hueco Mundo. From what I can remember."

"Are you done?" He snorted a huff as the words dribbled out of her, throwing a glare at a few grounds workers who had paused in their duties to watch Orihime's bouncy walk across the lot. "Damn right I've been nice."

She frowned, picking up her pace to match his longer strides, hands going behind her head to tighten the ponytail scrunchie there. "You're kind of ... abrupt, sometimes. Sometimes ...caustic." She worked up a weak nod at the severe look her threw her. "Like that."

"If you think I'm going to go around smiling like a simpleton, you're nuttier than Wonderweiss. It looks silly to smile all the time."

Her smile drooped, her eyes on the pavement before them, her mind already counting down the hours until five o'clock. "It's better than grouching all the time."

He shrugged as they passed the gates to the train station, ebbing their way through the crowd milling about them. "Not you," he said by way of clarification when she'd been quiet for a few moments. Longer than usual.

She turned a confused face to him. "Not me?"

This time there was less of the usual malice in his glare. She made it too easy to hurt her. "It's not silly for _you_ to smile all the time," he relented lowly as they packed into the train with the other jostling bodies.

A look of genuine surprise widened her eyes. "Oh...?"

They found room at the far end of the train.

"Yeah, it still looks silly, but it's okay on you."

A blush and smile warmed Orihime's face, not only because it was a nice thing to say, but it wasn't his customary idea of a compliment. No mention of extraneous body parts that were kept covered for a reason. She never thought she'd say the words that sprang to mind. "Thank you, Grimmjow."

He put one hand against the side of the train near her as the car lurched into motion, watching her cower slightly as she leaned against the wall, but not move away. "Did you mean what you said back there, to the man at the market?"

She frowned, thinking back on what she'd said. She nodded slowly. "I think you could learn a job there quickly."

For a moment he watched her lips turn into a tremulous but meager well-meaning smile. His own scowl deepened in absence of a brighter expression on her, and understanding. "Never mind."

Her eyes went to his feet. "You'll have to get boots." She looked up. "Oh, and a brush."

He nodded.


	7. Freedom on Hold

Orihime found herself rid of Grimmjow earlier than five o'clock that afternoon. After stopping to buy a pair of rubber boots for his new job -- a shopping venture that proved less painful than the first -- and a quick late lunch, he'd left back for the Tsukiji fish market at four.

Once he was gone, she couldn't decide what to do first. So many options crowded her head.

There was the beach, and Tatsuki, and ice cream parlors to visit.

But she knew better. She couldn't show up at the beach having miraculously recovered from a cold, or call Tatsuki to come over to her apartment after rushing her out earlier, or take the chance at being seen going out to try a new ice cream shop.

Still trapped in her self-exile for a few days, Orihime made the most of her confinement. After a thorough cleaning of the bathroom and catching up on her laundry, which she realized was now invaded by some very large items -- which she handled as little as possible -- it was only six-thirty that evening. She had three hours of daylight left.

Delicious, bright sunny daylight that she was going to squander in front of the TV.

"It can't be helped," she told herself, and then realized with a shock that Grimmjow might be back sooner than sometime after dark.

What if the fish market didn't need him? Or couldn't find something for him to do? She thought about the distance to and from the market and how long it would take Grimmjow to give up on prospects of lumping.

Six-thirty? She groaned. He could be back at any minute.

The minutes became precious. She dragged out the telephone listing directory and pulled the phone from the stand near the couch closer, flopping onto her stomach on the piece of furniture.

There certainly was a lot more room in the apartment without the Espada taking up a good percentage of it, she noted. Very spacious suddenly.

She propped herself on her elbows and thumbed through the phone directory.

"Hotels, hotels, hotels," she murmured, finger tracing the page of listings. She frowned, changing position quickly to sit cross-legged and pull the directory into her lap when she realized the couch had picked up a new characteristic.

It smelled like him. Or at least his new aftershave or deodorant, maybe.

She glanced at the pillow sheepishly -- one of _her_ pillows, actually -- he was using at the far end of the couch. She leaned over and gave it a test sniff.

Nope. Nothing.

"Must be the couch," she determined, settling back to make her calls.

Which meant it would be there after he was gone.

She quieted the blush seeping into her cheeks at sniffing anything. He was right. She _was_ silly.

The first call went not so well. No vacancies.

She dialed another hotel, fanning herself with a restaurant take-out menu she'd found in the directory.

Same results. No vacancies.

Same with the third, the fourth ... the eighth ... the twelfth.

Orihime almost slammed the phone earpiece into its cradle after the last call. No vacancies.

"_Anime convention has every possible room for the next week_," was the story she heard over and over, until she'd exhausted the whole two pages of listings.

She blew a loose strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her face, fanning the menu rapidly. Or maybe the fish market would find a lot of work for him and he'd be gone until midnight, or even later. Maybe morning.

She smiled, but it faded slowly. Did that mean she had to wait up? Leave the door unlocked? A horde of butterflies swarmed her stomach, each gnawing a hole in her.

Give him a spare key...?

"No, no," she told herself adamantly at the last prospect.

But when eight-thirty came and passed, with Orihime checking the clock every seven minutes, she opened the kitchen window halfway and did a little baking, and then took a quick shower while the brownies baked despite her earlier one that morning. She leisurely dried her hair a little and changed into what was passing for her sleepwear lately, a long periwinkle camisole _lined_-top plus a grape sherbet color pair of lounging shorts.

Now attired in what could possibly be mistaken for summer cold wear, she dried her hair completely and wiped the foggy medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom and opened it, only to grimace.

There the Tiki god toothbrush cup holder looked back at her on the bottom shelf, two toothbrushes sticking out the top, an especially sour look on the little idol's bronze face.

"Sorry," she mumbled to it, using one finger to scoot Grimmjow's blue toothbrush away from her orange one, feeling a little violated. She grabbed her toenail polish and went to the couch.

* * *

Orihime awoke a little past one in the morning to a knocking at her apartment door. She groggily stood up from the couch in the light of the lamp, pulling her pink robe tighter around herself as she cast a glance at the TV muted low playing a late movie, and went to the door.

"Hello?" she said sleepily, hoping she knew who it was.

"It's me," Grimmjow said. "Open up."

She did, pushing her hair over her shoulder in its absence of ponytail as she looked up at him. He smelled slightly of fish, so she assumed a day on the fish market had been had.

"Your first day at work," she said, trying to perk a smile onto her face as he strode past her into the room. She closed the door and locked it as he turned to look at her. "How'd it go?"

He gave her a low growl, setting his boots beside the door, eyes flicking over her attempt at modesty in her night clothes. "It went. What's to eat?" He sniffed. "What's that?"

"Brownies. To celebrate your new job."

"I'll be out in a minute."

She sighed, her eyes half-closing as he spoke. He headed for the bathroom, pulling at his shirt. When she opened her eyes he was gone, leaving a trail of dislocated buttons on the floor from the couch to the bathroom. Orihime sighed again, collecting them as she went, pulling her bedroom door shut when she reached it.

She was going to ask something more, but the shower water was running in the bathroom, and she didn't want to chance that he'd open the door to answer her. She took the buttons with her into the kitchen.

On the counter the pan of brownies was cool enough to slice into serving pieces, so she did. She lifted the kitchen window pane completely open. It had been too hot in the summer evening to bake brownies, but she was glad she'd done it anyway, even if she had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for them to cool.

And for him to return, she realized, a twinge of uneasy domesticity making her cringe as she put the brownies on a plate. Waiting up for an unwanted roommate was worse than babysitting an unruly child, she decided.

She pulled out the left over dinner of her own special recipe of chicken, rice, and beets and heated it up in the small microwave. Grimmjow entered the kitchen as the timer beeped, making her pull her robe shut more and retie it at her waist. She frowned at his open shirt over a pair of pajama bottoms, deciding night was best left for sleeping and not sharing with temporary guests.

"It's too damn hot to button it," he said, noting her eyes on the loose shirt.

She nodded and opened the microwave.

He was looking at the plate of brownies, leaning over them to get a better whiff.

"Well?" she said, grabbing his plate of dinner and assorted condiments as he followed her to the low table. "How was your job?"

He shrugged, dropping onto a cushion as she placed the plate on the table, and distributed the bottles of soy sauce, ketchup, and hoisin before rushing back to the refrigerator. "All right, I guess."

She reappeared with a glass of Orange Crush and the plate of brownies and placed them on the table. She flicked the lamp onto a higher setting at the stand by the couch and then sat at a cushion at the table side. "Just all right? They had work for you?"

He nodded, dumping a liberal amount of each sauce on the plate's contents. "Unloaded trucks. That's it." From his shirt pocket he took a few bills that were folded together. "Tell me how much is there."

Orihime's sleepy eyes opened wider as she looked t the money. "They paid you in cash?"

He nodded, making a face at the flavor combination of the first bite he took. "They said check or cash, and I said cash."

She counted the money, nodding, smile growing. "Not bad, Grimmjow. Rather good." She told him how much, seeing nothing register on his face as he chewed. "It's very good for one day's work."

He shrugged, taking another heaping bite.

She pushed the money to him, forcing her weary mind into working. "I called on hotel rooms for you today."

His eyes shot to hers. "How much for a room?"

She tried a feeble smile. "There's nothing for a week. The anime convention has everything booked solid."

As much as he would have enjoyed watching the tormented look on her face for a little longer, he gave in to a new emotion. "Before you get all scared shitless about renegotiating," he said, pouring more ketchup on his plate, "a guy from the market gave me this." He pulled another wadded up paper from his pocket and slid it to her. "He said they've got cheap apartments for rent."

"Oh? Oh, good." She made an effort at staying awake and took the small piece of paper, straightening it as his attention fell to the side of the table where her legs were curled to her side on the cushion. "Hmm, I think I know this neighborhood." She also knew to stay away from it. She looked up at him as his eyes left her legs. "It's a pretty rough area."

He nodded, waiting for her to make her point.

She shrugged. "You'll fit right in." She gave him back the paper and set her elbow on the table, leaning her chin in the palm. "Did you like lumping?"

"It's okay."

She sighed, eyes drooping until she made them stay open. "Do you go back tomorrow?"

He nodded as her eyes closed again. "But not the next day. Market's closed."

Her eyes flung open. "Closed? I forgot about it being closed sometimes on Wednesdays."

He saw her eyes slowly close again. For a moment he ate, watching her lean heavily on her palm until he thought she was going to topple over as she drifted off to sleep. "Go to bed."

Her eyes popped open quickly, somewhat independently, taking a moment to focus on him.

"Go to bed," he said, grinning at her, nodding at the table and condiments. "I'll put this stuff away when I'm done."

"That's all right," she said, fighting a yawn.

"Go to bed."

She eyed the raisins and sunflower seeds peeking out of the brownies on the plate, sleepiness outweighing her desire for chocolate. "Okay. Goodnight. Congratulations on your job."

He nodded, watching her leave the table.

* * *

Orihime realized she was more tired than she'd thought the night before. She woke up to a loud snoring coming from the couch in her small living room out her bedroom door.

She sat up quickly as her eyes opened, focusing on the door across the room.

Her _open_ bedroom door.

She let out an '_Eep!_' and pulled her sheet higher around her chest in the warm morning, eyes large as she looked at the bathroom doorway facing her. The snoring stopped at her outburst, and she looked up as Grimmjow appeared in the opening, shirtless and looking grumpier than usual.

"I did _not_ open your door, Orihime," he grumbled, running a hand through his blue hair as he watched her bundle the bedclothes around herself. "You left it open last night."

"Oh... " she said.

He shook his head and went into the bathroom.

She wasted a precious moment realizing his bare back was void of his coveted number Six tattoo. She almost felt sad at the loss for him.

Then she hastily bumbled out of bed and closed her door, but not before he emerged from the bathroom and put a hand on the door to stop her, catching her in all her morning pajama glory as she pushed on the door knob.

"Show me how to count money today," he said, eyes falling over her lounging clothing.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, pushing on the door.

"And I need to find out how banks work," he said, a grin crossing his face as she blushed and hid more behind the door.

"Okay. We'll do that." She leaned her back on the door so she couldn't see him, lending her weight to her effort at closing it.

He looked around the door, technically not stepping a foot in the room, eyeing her discomfort and sleepwear. "Cooking, too."

She gave his smug look her sternest frown. "Okay. Cooking, too. Can I please shut the door now?"

He disappeared out the door, letting it shut with a slam that made her yelp in surprise.

* * *

The Golden Blossom Guest Houses were not quite what the name implied. Orihime knew this going into the seedier parts of the back alleys of Tsukiji that mid morning as she and Grimmjow went in search of the address on the slip of paper he carried. She was almost glad she had an escort in a place like that.

_If he wasn't here I wouldn't be in a place like this_, she thought as they picked their way through the narrow alleys of a side street, lines of laundry strung overhead, questionable-looking men loitering around every corner, colorful tattoos the standard skin covering on nearly everyone they passed.

She gave him her attention, eyes resting on the slight spots of red on his right cheek. His eyes shifted down to her.

"What?"

She looked away. "Nothing."

"What?"

She didn't look at him, not directly, until he looked back at the alley before them. "You cut yourself shaving."

He growled several of the banned words. "I'm not used to shaving that side."

She couldn't think of the right comment, so she remained silent. She found herself walking a little nearer to him than she normally liked, deciding that of all the threats leering at her he was the one least most likely to attack her.

"Is this it?" he asked as they stopped before a beige-brown building stuck among the other tall ones, its paint faded and peeling, making Orihime think of pancakes. He looked at the numbers on the slip of paper in his hand. "They match up."

She looked at the paper and then to the numbers on the side of a door in the building that read '_Office_' in scrawled characters. "This is it."

As if on cue, a man in black tabi socks, wooden geta sandals and a very loosely closed and dirty lavender kimono over an equally dirty white t-shirt came out of the door, his unshaven face bearing half a week's beard and perma-frown.

"What do you want?" he barked, squinting up at Grimmjow before his gaze went to Orihime. He quirked a smile. "Well, _well_... "

"We're here about the apartment," Grimmjow said, stepping in front of Orihime as the man chuckled, eyes opening wider.

"One left. Not really big enough for two people," he said, grinning more, exposing teeth beyond stained.

"Oh, just one," Orihime said, peeking around Grimmjow's arm. "Him."

The man's face sagged in disappointment. He nodded. "This way."

It was ten minutes of a maze of narrow alleys and stairs later that he showed them into the small apartment. It was on the third floor, accessed by an outside staircase that overlooked a small courtyard below of broken concrete and weeds and yipping dogs. The man opened the door with a squeak of the hinges, gesturing grandly.

Grimmjow looked in, crowding Orihime as she tried to see through the doorway. He nudged her in, and followed, the man behind him.

Small was a liberal word for the one room that served as living, sleeping and kitchen facilities. A sink and a small counter, an efficiency-size refrigerator and a washing machine unit stacked nearby made up the kitchen. A worn futon was against the other wall, a dead plant in a cracked vase in a corner, and a small coffee table supported by four different designed legs made up the living area. To one side beyond a stack of smelly cardboard moving boxes was a bathroom partitioned off by a torn shower curtain.

Grimmjow was looking at the kitchen, scowling.

Orihime knew the expression on his face. She looked quickly to the man near the door, who was returning her attention in a too-friendly manner.

"Can we look at it for a moment?" she asked, forcing a smile.

He nodded, stepping back to stand in the doorway, eyes on the butterfly pattern of beads splayed over the chest of her pink shirt.

She turned back to see Grimmjow standing in the kitchen area. She eased up. "What do you think?"

He leveled a glare on her. "This is a shithole."

Her hand was halfway to his mouth before she thought to stop. She shook her head. "It's not so bad," she said, looking around at the small room. The faded blue paint was stained and dull, the wood floor scuffed and pocked with cigarette burn holes. "We could fix it up some."

His eyes narrowed on her. "Your place is twice as big. Clean, too."

She made an uneasy shrug, casting another scrutinizing look around the room. "Well, yes, but my aunt got me set up there. My brother and I were there for years, so it's a different matter, Grimmjow."

His attention piqued at that. "Brother? Where's he now?"

The hurt fell over her face, and she didn't try to hide it, but neither did she want to answer. "It's just me now. But this," she made a sweeping motion to the room, stopping when her movement included the man in the doorway, "most of this can be fixed up. You've got money, Grimmjow, and you're working now. We'll make it nice. You'll see."

He reached around her, to where the refrigerator was only an arm away, and opened the small unit. "It's empty."

She sighed, putting both hands on her hips until his attention settled on her butterflies. She dropped her arms. "Of course it's empty. We'll go grocery shopping. We'll get stuff to make the whole place better." She leaned over the small sink, one hand pulling at the back of her white shorts. She whisked back the brown-stained knotty lace curtains, hoping to comment on his view. Her ready smile dissolved. "Well, you've got a window."

Grimmjow stood next to her to see the view of the courtyard below interrupted by lines of drying laundry. "Clothes."

She pointed beyond the next section of buildings that made up the courtyard. In the distance a narrow strip of blue could be seen. "There. You can see part of the Bay." She looked up at him. "That's nice," she said without thinking, then added quickly, "I mean, it's interesting."

He looked from her out the window again, trying to comprehend the lure of water after having spent his former afterlife in Hueco Mundo. "Blue water."

"Isn't it pretty?"

He'd gotten a good look at the Tokyo Bay the night before during his break at the market, trailing a few of the other lumpers and truck drivers to where they were bragging and smoking at the station rail overlooking the water. "It's blue," he said to Orihime. "What's so good about that?"

She shrugged. "There's no water to look at from my window. It's different."

"You want it or not?" the man asked from the doorway, scratching his neck with dirty fingernails.

Grimmjow looked from the small stretch of water to Orihime. "You'll go with me get the stuff to make it better here?"

She nodded, smiling hopefully.

He glanced to the boxes stacked haphazardly against one wall, and then met the man at the door, their voices low for several long moments. Orihime found herself holding her breath, not only because of the musty smell emanating from the boxes and curtains, but because her freedom was hinging on their conversation.

"Deal," the man said, laughing and looking to Orihime. He nodded at Grimmjow. "Thursday it is, then. I'll take your deposit now."

Grimmjow pulled out a wad of money as the man named an amount. Orihime crossed the small room quickly to Grimmjow, taking his elbow and turning him from the man's view, pulling him a few feet away, to his surprise.

"Don't let him know you can't count it," she said in a low tone, standing on tiptoe to his ear where she saw a few more red shaving marks, watching his eyes sharpen on her. He bent his head lower as she continued. "Don't ever let anyone know you can't count money yet."

He nodded and let her help him peel out the correct number of bills from the roll he held. "Why not?" he asked lowly, turning his back when the man glanced around, trying to see their conversation.

"People will try to cheat you," she whispered near his ear.

"I'll need an extra day at your place," he said, folding the wad of money back into his pocket, watching the weak look of realization pass over her face.

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

"Is that a nod _yes_ or a nod that you heard me?"

She watched him straighten the bills, unable to offer a better alternative -- for him. "A yes."

He grinned, nodding at her groan, then turned to look at the man. "I'll be here Thursday."


	8. What the Cat Didn't Drag In

Grimmjow wasn't ready for Orihime's new ideas for his bachelor pad. Instead of going straight back to her apartment, she convinced him to begin his shopping for house wares. She didn't know if it was such a good idea exposing the mall-goers at large to the former Espada, but if it meant helping Grimmjow into his new life without her, she would chance it.

He looked at the other shoppers as they crossed the food court of assorted kiosks boasting cuisines, surprised at Orihime's quick pace toward the opposite end of the mall. "What's the hurry? I can't move in until Thursday."

She nodded, eyes bright on the storefronts they passed. "It's going to take a few trips to get everything, and you need to get a lot of things."

"Like what?" He stared back at a line of mannequins dressed in athletic wear in a store display.

"Well, you need bedding, and appliances, and cooking utensils and stuff, and bathroom items."

"I already have toiletries," he said, leaning down to the top of her head. "Remember?"

She scooted away a foot. "Well, yes, but there are other types you need now."

"Like what?"

"Shower curtain, towels, washcloths, soap, all kinds of things." She pointed to a shop ahead of them. "There. Kitchen and bath. Perfect. Ooh, lookie!"

He barely got out of the way as she made a sudden verge before him to the pet shop display window to his side. Behind the wide glass three small shaggy puppies were bounding and mugging each other, tumbling into balls of fur and playful growls along the display floor of the pet shop.

Orihime pressed her fingers to the window, smiling at the romping pups, her forehead only inches from the pane. "Aren't they cute?" she said as one glomped on another.

Grimmjow frowned at the animals. "Mutts."

She smiled wider, looking up at him, hoping to bring a less severe expression from him until she remembered his stance on smiling. She did so anyway, looking back to the window. "You don't think they look like fun?"

He shrugged.

"Oh, you probably like cats." She moved to the doorway. "Come on. Let's look at the cats."

He followed, unsure why the suggestion sounded more acceptable.

Inside the shop it was crowded with aisles of cages, bedding, pet supplies and toys and assorted screeches of birds. The front counter was surrounded by two women and four children all clamoring for the pet shop attendant's attention, each with a different animal in their grasps, so Orihime decided it best to move on. They made their way to the side where a line of aquariums were against a wall, a darkened corner of the shop with the hum of filters and bubblers making soft ripples of water in a dozen tanks of assorted fish.

"Do you like fish?" she asked, moving ahead of Grimmjow to find a tank of angelfish. "Ooh, look at the colors."

He stooped to see eyelevel the tank she watched, her finger tracing a brilliantly colored triangular fish making graceful sweeps around the fake flora inside the glass. It made its turns, gold and blue body folding among the trailing plant fronds.

"That's all they do?" he asked, tapping the glass with a large finger until all the fish turned and ducked behind a fake treasure chest in the middle. "Fish belong on a plate."

Orihime sighed and moved along the wall of aquariums. She couldn't very well disagree, not after he'd gotten a job at a fish market. She considered stopping to look at the tank of piranhas at the end of the wall, but decided against it. Grimmjow might mistake it for a challenge.

They turned the corner at the end aisle and found themselves in a row of bird cages, most filled with the feathered beasts, some cages reaching high overhead with multiple perches. Orihime smiled at one of the large parrots on the nearest perch, who looked back at her with sharp black eyes.

"How about birds?"

Grimmjow returned the bird's beady look. "What about them?"

"Maybe you could get a pet for your new place." She nodded her head as the parrot bobbed on the perch.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

She stopped bobbing, blushing a little in embarrassment. "Can you have pets at your apartment?"

"Why?"

She took a side step as he moved nearer, face closing in on the parrot before her. "You could get a pet. For company. Ooh, maybe a parrot." She nodded, smiling. "You could teach it to talk." Her smile faded as she thought more about the words he'd be using. "Well, some can learn to speak. Maybe not such a good idea," she mumbled, thinking more about what sorts of words the bird would inadvertently learn. She watched Grimmjow stick a finger between the cage bars. The bird hobbled closer on its perch. "See? He likes you."

The parrot snapped a sharp beak around Grimmjow's finger and chomped down.

Something between a curse and a snarl erupted from the Espada, jerking back his finger, and then found the cage door, unlatched it and had his hand halfway to the bird before Orihime stopped him.

"No, don't hurt him," she said as loudly as she dared, one hand on Grimmjow's chest and the other wrapped around his wrist, trying to keep his fingers from reaching the small animal's throat.

"The damn thing bit me," he snapped, lunging his hand farther to the bird, who flapped and scrambled away. "You little bastard... come here."

The bird opened its wings and hissed, cornered at the back of the cage.

Orihime pulled on his wrist, trying to wedge herself between the cage door and the Espada, against her better judgment. "He was just scared, Grimmjow. He didn't mean it." She eased his hand out of the cage door. "Let's go find the cats."

He pulled his hand out, pushed her to the side and snapped the door shut, then gave the whole cage a shake that rattled the toy bells and slopped water out of the bowl inside. The bird hissed back.

"Come on," Orihime said quickly, tugging on his sleeve. "Bad bird," she scolded as they moved to the next aisle. "You'll never get sold that way."

"They let a damn hazard like that within reach of children?" Grimmjow said as they found the large cages housing cats. "That thing would cut a little finger right off."

Orihime nodded, realizing an irate mother whose child had been bitten by the parrot would have had nearly the same reaction as Grimmjow. "You're right. Maybe we'll tell the manager. Oh, look. Kitties."

She knelt at the cat house, a large structure enclosed by mesh and carpeted supports with lounging adult cats on shelves inside and smaller kittens in a pile at one corner. "See? Tabbies."

He crouched beside her, eyes on the gray striped kittens mingled with the orange tabbies inside. As if on cue, every mature cat inside awoke and turned its head to look at Grimmjow, the males switching their tales irritably, the females all rising to sit on their shelves.

Orihime looked to him with surprise. "Wow. That's a neat trick, Grimmjow."

He grinned. "Think so?"

She nodded.

He pointed to one of the kittens crawling out from the bottom of the pile of others. Before she knew what he was doing Grimmjow had the door hatch open and had reached in to scoop up the orange tabby in his large hand.

"Oh, I don't think we're supposed to take them out," she said, putting one knee to the floor and straightening higher to see the sales clerk at the front of the store. He was still surrounded by children and the women, packaging a turtle in a box.

She looked back to see that Grimmjow had the kitten in both hands, the animal slumping over his fingers, looking back at him with large gray eyes, purring. Her eyes went to Grimmjow's, surprised to see his steady stare on the kitten was neither lethal nor neutral. Something else.

"Why don't you get a kitten for your new place?" she suggested gently. "A roommate."

His finger rubbed over the top of the kitten's nappy furred head between its ears, a ripple in the purring. "Maybe later."

She nodded.

After leaving the kitten in the pet shop with its kitten-buddies, Orihime and Grimmjow headed to the large store featuring kitchen and bath furnishings. The store was hushed among the aisles of towels and bath rugs, meandering low instrumental music over the speakers, making Grimmjow grit his teeth as he looked at the ceiling, searching for the sound.

"What the hell is that?" he grumbled as she led the way down the shelves.

"Music. Kind of boring music, but it's okay." She paused at the section of blue accessories. "You should get a radio, too, Grimmjow. Then you can listen to all kinds of music."

He nodded, watching her pull out a folded towel of light blue with yellow daisies on it. She held it up to him. He shook his head.

"No flowers?"

"No flowers."

She nodded and continued on to the striped selections. "Oh, how about blue and tan? That's masculine." She found a hand towel in the colors and showed him, smiling hopefully.

He shrugged. "It's too small."

"It's a hand towel." She leaned to the middle shelf to sort through the larger towels and washcloths. "How many do you think you need to start off? A few of each?"

Several towels and washcloths later and they moved on to rugs, collecting one low-pile blue rectangle and then on to a shelf of toothbrush holders and soap dishes.

Grimmjow looked at the assorted styles she held up, showing no interest in the fish or dolphin designs, muttering off-color words until she sighed in exasperation.

"Aren't you excited?" she finally asked, bundling the towel and washcloths closer to her chest. "It's a brand new place. You get to fix it up however you like." She smiled suddenly wider, hopping in place a few times, hugging the towels closer. "Paint! Yes, we -- you -- can paint it any color, too. What color do you like? I'm thinking blue."

He shrugged. "Why are you so damn happy about all this? I haven't been that big of a pain in your ass."

She gave him a pout, but a stiff one. "This should be fun for you."

"Fun, my ass. This is --"

"I'll help you paint and put all this where it goes," she said, hugging the towels tighter. "New places are fun to get started. Last summer we painted Tatsuki's bedroom and it was like a whole new room. She loved it." She turned down the aisle to where appliances were at the back of the store. "You'll see."

He followed, not believing all the _fun_ his new place would be. "What color?" he asked as they stopped at a shelf of toaster ovens and microwaves.

She clicked open the door of a small model of the latter on the display shelf. "Hmm? She wanted it green. It used to be yellow."

"Green sucks."

"It was a pretty green." She snapped the microwave door shut. She opened the toaster oven-microwave combo model on the upper shelf. "This would be good. You'd get a lot of use out of it." She slowly turned to face him, finding him too close, and only a bundle of towels away. "Uh, all this stuff requires reading a user's manual. Can you read?"

"Of course I can read, dammit, Orihime." He snatched the combo model off the shelf as far as its security tether allowed. "Didn't I make you a list of words?"

"Oh, well, yes," she said, pushing the combo back onto the shelf before he ripped the tether off the back wall. She knelt to find another packaged set. "Here." She held the box up to him. "I just didn't know if you knew other words. Reading words."

"Yes. I know other words." He took the box from her and stuck it under his arm. "What else?"

After a double burner hot plate and a rice cooker, Orihime decided he had the basics. They wove their way to the front of the store, passing by the bath section again, when she remembered the torn shower curtain at the small apartment earlier.

"You'll need one of these," she said, waving him over to a display of shower curtains hanging from a tall rack. She sifted through them with one hand, her other arm around the towels and cloths. "Maybe two. One for the door and one for the actual shower."

He pulled a curtain out with a variegated blue swirl design. "Show me how to count money."

"Right now?" Her hand stilled on the next curtain with green frogs on it.

He nodded.

She shifted the towels to one hip under her arm, nodding. "Do you think you have enough for all this stuff today?"

"Why the hell do you think I want you to show me now?" he growled.

"Okay, okay."

He was a quick learner, she had to admit it. While they stood tucked in the shower curtains it took all of three minutes for him to learn the basics. She showed him the price tags and how they corresponded to how much money it would take to purchase each item.

After a bit of complaining about some of the prices -- as any consumer would have -- they took the new household goods to the checkout, where Grimmjow proceeded to appear to know what he was doing. Orihime was almost proud of him.

Until they got to the next store selling bedding, and the Espada slipped back into Arrancar mode and had to open everything before be decided whether to buy it.

They were in the midst of the linen department before Orihime realized he'd opened most of the packages of sheets within his reach on the shelf. She gave a hasty look around and pulled the lower edge of the sheet set package he held up to his face.

"You can't open anything yet, Grimmjow," she said in her loudest whisper, pulling on the package of tightly folded blue and gray sheets.

"I'm not buying anything before I know I want it." He tossed the package back onto the shelf and grabbed another, ripping open the side and smelling the cotton sheets inside. "None of these are any good."

Back onto the shelf with it.

He reached for another.

She grabbed the last one he'd discarded, turning it over. "There's nothing wrong with it. Look. It says fits most daybeds and futons. It's perfect size. You don't like the color?"

He mumbled a long curse, pulling back enough plastic wrap to sniff the contents of the next package. "Nothing smells right."

"Smell? Oh, they're all new. They won't smell like anything yet. We'll wash them before you put them on..." she thought back on the very used-looking futon in his new residence-to-be, "your futon, and they'll be softer. You'll see."

He jammed the package back on the shelf even as she reached for it.

"These are perfect, unless you don't like the color," she said, eyes shooting to the front of the store where a sales clerk was watching them. "What color do you want?"

"The color's not the damn problem --"

She shoved the package at him as the sales clerk headed their way. "Let's go to the pillow section."

He followed her lead, throwing the sales clerk a glare that made her stop in her tracks. Orihime made a low squeal and skipped ahead to the large racks of pillows.

"How about these? Ooh, they're so billowy." She pulled a large white pillow from the stack of caged pillows. "Try it."

He took the pillow she thrust at him. "Try it?"

She nodded eagerly. "Just ... well, see if it's soft enough. Or firm enough."

Instead he sniffed it. "It doesn't smell like anything."

"They're not supposed to," she said, watching the sales clerk peeking over an aisle of comforters half a store away.

"The one at your place does."

She looked back to him quickly. "No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does." He shoved the pillow back into the rack with the rest.

She shook her head.

He nodded. "It smells like ..." He realized what, grinning slowly at the flush starting over her cheeks. "Like you."

She shook her head more forcefully, eyes widening as he chuckled.

"Yes, that's what it is. You."

She hastily grabbed the pillow from the rack. "Let's just get this one."

He took the pillow she offered him, large hands making big squeezes around the white cotton, the grin on his face making her squirm until she took a step back into the throw cushion rack.

"So...so that one's...okay?" she asked meekly, her smile failing her.

"Yup."

"Can I help you two find anything?" the sales woman asked, poking her head around the corner of the throw cushion rack, eyeing them suspiciously.

"No, go away," Grimmjow told her.

"Grimmjow..." Orihime said as the woman recoiled.

He grabbed her wrist and towed her with him down the aisle to where the sheet sets were stacked, pillow and appliance shopping bag in the other hand.

"What the hell's with all the people getting nosey about buying shit every time we're in a store?" he muttered, pausing before the gray and blue sheets again, glare searching for one of the packages he'd opened previously.

Orihime pulled her arm from him as he found a package and swiped it off the shelf. "They're trying to offer help. That's their job," she said lightly.

"Damn meddlers."

He pulled a flat sheet halfway out of the package, throwing a caustic look at her as she began to say something about it, but then quieted. "I'm buying it, Orihime," he said, leaning closer as she pressed her back to the shelf.

She nodded, easing up a little as he moved to another shelf. "That's good. That you like that ... design," she said as he spared her a glance and turned to look around, searching for something not within eyeshot. He looked back to her and snatched a navy blanket from the tall rack behind her as she emitted a muted yelp. "I'm done."

* * *

Orihime's day went much smoother after the shopping spree, mainly after four-thirty when Grimmjow headed back into the center of the city after they returned to her apartment with his purchases.

She made a quick early dinner for him, packed his _Fruits Basket_ bento box of lunch for whatever meal he was calling it later in the day, and prepared to enjoy her afternoon on her own.

But there was no joy to be had, or not much, anyway. A phone call to Tatsuki reminded Orihime that her time with her dark-haired friend was limited: Tatsuki had mixed-martial arts camp the following week and with Orihime's feigned _cold_ and Grimmjow's moving out Thursday, there would be no Tatsuki-time until Friday.

Possibly Saturday.

After all, she had agreed to help Grimmjow paint his new place, and that would require a day -- probably her Friday.

She pacified herself in the thought that once he was gone and Tatsuki was back from camp, she'd still have two weeks of school break. Half of what she had initially, but still two weeks of hot, sunny weather.

Beaches, ice cream, shopping ...

* * *

She fell asleep on the couch a little after midnight, two hours into _Pirates of the Caribbean_, waiting on _Edward Scissorhands_ to come on for the late movie that night, the apartment hot and muggy in the humid weather. This time she was more prepared, wearing her usual night clothes, her robe, and propped on a pillow -- her own pillow -- on the couch's armrest in the dim light of the lamp on the stand near her, but with a throw blanket wrapped in her arms.

She woke midway through _Edward Scissorhands_ later that night, eyes focusing on the TV playing lowly on its small stand, the room quiet and too warm. She eased the throw blanket away, its warmth unnecessary, sighing in the still apartment.

She let her eyes adjust to the light from the TV, wondering vaguely at the time, and tried to focus on the wall clock past the TV.

"It's three-thirty," Grimmjow said, his voice at the other end of the couch.

"Gahh!" Orihime sat upright with a second outburst, and then grabbed the throw blanket higher around herself.

Grimmjow looked back at her, wearing only his pajama bottoms, leaned to the opposite couch end, his pillow tucked under one arm. "What the hell's wrong with you? Damn, girl."

She scrambled into a sitting position, pulling her legs to her side, fingers tugging at her purple shorts. "I didn't ... How long ... When did you get back?"

"Couple hours ago." He watched her hand fidget with her shorts and edge of the robe until she stopped.

She hugged the blanket closer, blinking quickly. "How'd you get in?"

"The door was open." He leaned one elbow on the couch armrest, giving her a pointed stare. "You didn't mean to leave it open?"

"No..."

He mumbled something she didn't hear, his eyes back on the TV. "Don't leave the door unlocked, Orihime. Stupid idea."

"I didn't mean to." She pushed the blanket away when the extra heat got intolerable. "It got muggier."

"It's raining out," he said as she looked to the kitchen window which was halfway shut. "Pouring rain."

"Oh, they didn't call for rain on the weather report," she said. "Maybe it'll be sunny tomorrow."

"Damn rain," he mumbled, slouching more, scratching himself.

She tried not to look, and it was over soon.

"You don't like the rain?"

"Not at night."

"Why not?"

"It's already dark. Rain makes it worse. This guy looks familiar," he said, nodding to the TV.

"Oh, that's Johnny Depp."

"He was in the other movie. The one on before this one." He nodded. "Looks like someone else, too."

"He's in a lot of movies." She cleared her throat, her heart still thumping too loudly at his unannounced presence. "How was work?"

He shrugged.

"Are you hungry?"

"I already ate."

She looked back to the TV. She'd missed some of her favorite parts already. She was about to make a comment on Wynona Ryder's blonde hair when Grimmjow's hand closed around her ankle, pulling her foot closer, but not out of the socket, as she knew he was capable.

She squeaked a yelp and tried to pull her leg back, to no avail.

He was looking at her toes, which were clenched in resistance. With his other hand he made the sole of her foot straighten, looking more closely at the toes. "Relax as little," he said, her toes obscuring his attempt to straighten them without breaking them.

"What are you doing?" She edged closer, every muscle in her leg nervously tensing as she moved, trying to pry her foot out of his hand. "Don't break them, please."

He glared at her in the dim light. "Dammit, I'm not going to break them, woman. I want to see them better."

She let her foot relax a little. Very little.

His fingers slowly uncurled a few toes, his thumb moving over the short pink toenails. "You painted them?"

She nearly giggled in relief that he was only curious about painted toenails and not if her toes would also bend as easily the wrong way.

"Yes. Like fingernails. Just a silly thing girls do in the Living world."

He nodded, studying each toe individually for a moment.

A very long moment, she decided.

"Um, Grimmjow, can I have my foot back, please?"

"I'm not hurting it," he said, angling her foot to see the ankle better.

She pulled her robe more over her leg, which covered little more than her shorts did. He inspected the foot for a moment more, his eyes frowning over the ankle, and then up the rest of her leg, to her nearly terrified face.

"What's that look for?"

She shook her head, unaware of her look, but certain it was along the lines of stricken with fear. "I ... I just..." She shook her head again. She was about to clarify her confusion when someone knocked on the door.

They both looked to it.

He looked to her. "Are you expecting anyone?"

"No."

He threw her leg back to her and stood up.

With reflexes she didn't recall possessing, she got to the door before him, holding a hand up to him. "I'll answer."

He was about to say something but she shook her head. "Please? No one knows you're here, and it would look ...wrong." She quickly retied her robe snugger around her waist and pushed her hair from her face, wishing she'd left her ponytail in.

Grimmjow stood a foot back, eyes on the door.

Orihime put one hand to the door knob. "Who is it?"

"Hello."

She stood straighter. She hadn't heard that voice in ... well, nearly as long as ...

"Orihime?" came the muffled tone again. "Hello?"

She unlocked the door and opened it slowly, wide awake now, every sense on alert.

She looked out to see Ulquiorra standing in the poorly lit hall. He was soaked wet, drenched to every bone, his white pants and shirt hanging heavy on his thin form, his Hollow mask beneath one arm, dark hair streaming water down his face.

She caught her breath, feeling Grimmjow pushing a hand on the back of the door near her head. She braced her foot at the edge to hold it open.

"Hello. Orihime," Ulquiorra said. "I'm sorry it's so late --"

"Come in, come in!" She grabbed his wet arm and pulled him in. "You're soaked. Are you cold?"

Ulquiorra stepped into the room, wet footprints marking his entry. He looked around the place, and then to Grimmjow at the door as he slammed it closed. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed on him, a low snarl beginning in his throat.

"Oh, you're completely drenched. I'll get a towel. Are you hungry?" Orihime hurried off to the bathroom, her voice carrying an unexpected energy. "How long have you been here? Oh, gosh, are you dead, too? I mean, are you dead _and_ here?"

Grimmjow glared at Ulquiorra, hands clenching into fists. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Ulquiorra returned his level stare. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I live here."

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Thanks for reading and reviewing! Poll is up!_


	9. Tom Cat and GreenEyed Monster

Orihime returned with a big fluffy peach towel and a small smile on her face, until she got a better look at Grimmjow's scowl. She offered Ulquiorra the towel, eyes resting on his now intact neck.

"You _are_ dead. I mean, living again." She nodded slowly. A mixture of surrealism and delight at seeing him again rushed through her. She watched the water drip from his hair as he returned Grimmjow's lethal look.

She looked to the taller Espada, too easily reading the simmer on his face. "Can he borrow ..." She rethought her query, the glower he leveled on her emanating heat in the already stuffy hot apartment. She looked to Ulquiorra still dripping water on her floor as he unfolded the towel. "You're soaking wet. Have you been here long?"

"A few hours," he said, eyes on the Espada waiting to pounce on anyone within range. He looked back to Orihime as he wiped his face and hair. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Oh, that's no problem. It's ... Here, let me take that while you dry off," she said, reaching for his mask still tucked under one arm.

His arm tensed around it possessively.

"I won't break it," she said gently, nodding, smiling kindly. "I promise."

He slowly gave her the remnant of his Espada days, and dried his hair into tufts under Grimmjow's toxic study.

She carefully cradled the mask in both arms. "You can't stay in those clothes. You'll catch a cold. You can change into dry, and I'll --"

"Its summer, woman," Grimmjow barked, gesturing to the kitchen window with a broad swipe of his arm. "It's hotter than hell in here!"

"Summer colds are the worst," she said to him, recalling her fabrication to Tatsuki, summoning her courage, and Tsubaki on stand-by, just in case. "He's got to wear something. Can he borrow some of your clothes?"

"Are you insane?!" Grimmjow burnt a livid vocal line through every word on the list of banned curses. Orihime clapped a hand over his mouth, still careful with the mask in her arm.

He ripped her hand down. "-- mother-fathering emo poser comes through your door and --"

"Please?" she said, timidly insistent, gritting her teeth against his fingers clutched vise-like around her wrist. "Just 'til I can dry his --"

"That's okay, Orihime," Ulquiorra said, green eyes on his former colleague's hold on her. "Let her go, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow turned his glare on the slender wrist in his hand. He dropped it.

Orihime sent him a disappointed look and nodded to Ulquiorra. "Come on. You can dry off in the bathroom and use a towel until I get your clothes dried."

He followed her to the bathroom, glancing into her darkened bedroom through the open door as they went, one eyebrow quirking when he realized what it was.

Grimmjow watched them go into the bathroom, the door remaining open, the upper ranked Espada managing to look more forlorn and needy than ever. Their voices were low, not carrying to where he still stood at the door, Orihime's smile and sudden eagerness bringing a flush to her cheeks, which he could see in the mirror as she spoke.

She exited the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her and went into her room. Grimmjow followed.

Almost. He stood in the doorway as she flicked on the overhead light and cautiously set the mask on her dresser and rummaged through her small closet, tossing possible candidates of clothing onto the bed. He scowled at the sweatshirts and large t-shirts.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She gave him a sharp look, frowning until she saw he was technically not in her room. But close. "He has to wear something while his clothes dry." She held up a sweatshirt with _Hello Kitty_ on it, and threw it on the bed before reaching back into the closet. "Since _you_ won't share."

"Your clothes will come closer to fitting him than mine. He's a skinny runt," he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "I can't believe you."

"Me?" She pulled out another large t-shirt, nodding at it.

"You act like I asked for your first born when I showed up, and now you're practically falling all over yourself welcoming that wet bat in the middle of the night." He fought back the growl that suddenly wanted out, arms uncrossing and hands making tight fists at his sides. "_That's_ why you left the door unlocked, isn't it?"

She looked to him with utter shock. "No. I fell asleep and --"

"That's why." He nodded as she hugged the t-shirt closer to her chest. "You knew he was going to show up --"

"I didn't know, Grimmjow. How could I know?" She took a few steps toward the door, but he didn't move, something close to dare on his features. She tried to force herself into taking more steps, but she remained a few feet away, out of arm's reach if he stayed in the doorway. "I have to give this to him."

"Like hell."

He disappeared into the other room, only to reappear a few seconds later with one of his new shirts in hand. Without a knock he opened the bathroom door a few inches, whipped the shirt in and pulled the door shut again with a slam. Muted words came from the bathroom.

He turned on Orihime still in her bedroom doorway. "He's not wearing your clothes. Put your shirt away."

"Thank you." She set the t-shirt on her dresser and collected the mask.

"Don't thank me! Dammit, don't you know an insult when you hear one?" He was going to say more, but she slipped past him, the mask in her arms like an infant as she went into the kitchen.

She set it on the counter and looked to the overhead cupboards, switching on the light by the sink. She opened one cupboard door, eyes moving over the packages and boxes of food items inside, feeling Grimmjow near her. "Are you hungry?"

"Me?"

She turned to look up at him, now standing directly behind her. "Yes. Are you?"

He reached over her head and grabbed the nearest package of ramen soup. "This one."

She took the small package, and then caught his hand as it moved away. "Is that from the parrot?"

"Damn bird."

He watched her fingers pause on the short, slightly red lines at the back of his hand before she quickly withdrew her hand. A self-conscious blush rose over her cheeks as she turned and grabbed another package of ramen from the cupboard.

"Don't ever come in when I'm in there again," Ulquiorra said, startling them both from where he stood beside the refrigerator. He was looking at Grimmjow.

Orihime spun to see him, her blush increasing, this time because the former Espada Four was wearing only a peach towel around his hips and a blue shirt much too large for him, but neatly buttoned.

"Oh, pants ..." she said.

"Not pants," Grimmjow said, eyeing the new addition to the household. "Just get his damn clothes dried."

Orihime eased away from him to a bottom cupboard and found two saucepans. She watched Ulquiorra look anxiously to his mask. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?"

He looked from her to Grimmjow's fuming features and back again, one hand slicking back his combed hair that insisted on flopping over his face. "Don't trouble yourself, Orihime."

"Oh, it's no trouble. You must be hungry." She ran water in the pots for the various flavors of soup and set them over the small stove burners and turned the burner control knobs. She tightened the ties at her robe, too warm in the kitchen as the Espadas watched each other warily. She brightened. "Let's sit down."

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra found themselves on opposite sides of Orihime's low table at the edge of the kitchen as she served them glasses of Orange Crush while she hovered at the stove.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Grimmjow asked, this time determined to get an answer.

Ulquiorra held the glass of orange soda, listening to it fizz, frowning slightly. He glanced at Grimmjow's glass. "Is yours making noises?"

"What are you doing here?" Grimmjow asked again, hand tightening around his glass.

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes at the larger man. "How long have you been here?"

"A helluva lot longer than you'll be."

"You don't live here."

"Damn if I don't."

Ulquiorra looked to where Orihime was pouring two bowls of soup from the pots. "Why here?"

"Why are you here?"

Ulquiorra's attention was on what he could see of Orihime's legs beneath her short robe and pajama shorts. He looked back to Grimmjow. "Where do you sleep at night?"

"None of your damn business, rat." Grimmjow's glare settled on the other man's hair. "You combed your hair."

Ulquiorra nodded.

Grimmjow's ire spiked. "Which one?"

"All of them, moron."

"Not that. Which brush?"

Slow realization fell over Ulquiorra. "Which one was yours?"

"The blue one."

Ulquiorra didn't admit it, but the sour look on his face made it too clear.

There was a long trading of glares, broken by Orihime bringing in two steaming bowls of soup.

"Leave the blue one alone," Grimmjow said through a growl as Orihime placed the bowls before them both. "Leave the purple one alone, too."

"Oh, I'll get the toppings --" she began.

"Sit down; its fine," Grimmjow said.

She gave him half a frown, but knelt at the side of the table, smiling when she looked to Ulquiorra as he testily ladled a spoon of soup. "Are you staying here?"

"Hell, no, he's not staying here," Grimmjow snapped at her. "Damn, girl, he just shows up and --"

"I meant is he in the Living World _permanently_," she said, the late hour emboldening her usual timidity.

"If you're asking if I'm dead to Hueco Mundo, yes," Ulquiorra said, intrigued by the smile crossing her face. He was tempted to return the gesture. He looked back down at the soup, steadying a spoonful of it.

She gave Grimmjow a cautious look before turning to Ulquiorra again. "Do you want some ketchup? Or honey? How about chocolate syrup? It'll sweeten it up some if --"

"Ketchup," Grimmjow decided before she could run the whole list of condiments she owned.

"Okay!" She popped up from the table and went to the refrigerator.

Grimmjow turned on Ulquiorra. "Why did you get to keep your mask?"

Ulquiorra shrugged. "I asked."

Grimmjow glared at the mask on the kitchen counter.

"You didn't ask for yours?" There was an element of amusement in Ulquiorra's tone.

"Your Espada days are past, fourth rank. Get over it." Grimmjow took a large bite of the scalding soup, ignoring the burning path it made as he swallowed. "Why would I want a souvenir from the biggest waste of my time?"

Ulquiorra watched him swallow. "Truly spoken like a sixth rank."

"You were nothing but a lap dog." Grimmjow watched Orihime return, eyes on the smile she offered Ulquiorra.

She set assorted bottles on the table and sat down, before immediately standing again. "I'll get your clothes into the dryer."

Both Espadas watched her move to the bathroom and return with the wet clothes Ulquiorra had arrived in and go to the small washer-dryer set near the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass of soda in the kitchen and rejoined them at the table as a crack of thunder sounded and the rain increased in force outside.

"You can add more flavor with these," she said, pushing the bottles closer to Ulquiorra's bowl. Her eyes rested on his neck, softening as they rose to his. "Oh, can you swallow all right?"

"Of course he can, dammit," Grimmjow said.

"Its fine," Ulquiorra said to her, collecting another bite of soup in the spoon. He raised it to his lips and tasted it.

Orihime looked to the mask on the counter behind her, and then to Grimmjow. "You didn't want your mask?"

"No," he lied.

Ulquiorra swallowed the chicken soup slowly, eyes on the bottles of colorful condiments before him. "He didn't think to ask for his."

"Bullshit," Grimmjow growled.

"You didn't," Ulquiorra insisted.

Grimmjow took another large bite of beef soup.

Orihime looked curiously between them, and then flipped open the ketchup bottle cap, followed by the German mustard and chocolate syrup lids. "Try these. They're very good on soup."

Ulquiorra looked to each of the bottles, and took the jar of mustard.

Grimmjow grinned at his choice.

"Oh, they made you change your nails," Orihime said, groaning slightly but catching herself before reaching a hand to his when he poured a large dollop of mustard into his soup bowl.

"It's no problem," Ulquiorra said with a sigh, frowning at his bare, pale fingernails.

"Oh." She nodded.

Ulquiorra stirred the spicy condiment into his soup, sparing Grimmjow a sharp look. He took a bite of the mustard-laced soup. "I didn't realize you two knew each other so well."

Grimmjow grinned, and this time meant it, even as a crimson blush claimed Orihime's cheeks.

"We don't," she said, clearing her throat. "Just recently."

"Oh?" Ulquiorra sized up her robe and what he could see of her camisole top beneath. "Recently? So ... he's really living here?"

Orihime couldn't say no fast enough, but nor was it not true. Not entirely. "Just until ..." She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five a.m. "Tomorrow. Not later today, but tomorrow. Thursday."

Ulquiorra frowned slightly at her, leaning over the table, grimacing more as he got to a spot of mustard in the bite of noodles and broth. "But he _has_ been?"

"Yes." Grimmjow quickly finished his soup and pushed the bowl away.

"Well, it was a matter of ... Kind of ..." Orihime began again, shifting to sit on her cushion better, her knee making contact with Ulquiorra's beneath the table. She hastily moved it away. "Oh ... sorry."

He looked to her quickly at the touch, smiling ever so faintly. "That's all right."

Grimmjow had observed the shift in expressions of both Orihime and Ulquiorra, the brief trading of furtive glances and her flush at what he could only imagine happening under the table.

"Keep your hands to yourself, bat," he said darkly to Ulquiorra.

"What are you talking about?" Ulquiorra enjoyed the seething look ebbing onto Grimmjow's face. "I'm not the one sitting around in my pajamas with her in the middle of the night."

Grimmjow set one forearm on the table, leaning over it closer to Ulquiorra, making Orihime sit straighter and away from the table despite the motion not being directed at her. "She's not your captive now. You have no say in anything she does. And you're the one in borrowed clothes and a towel."

Orihime didn't like the thickening atmosphere that developed as Ulquiorra wordlessly ate, the stifling feeling seemingly magnified by the humid room. A hundred questions skipped through her mind, but the late hour and the barely contained infuriation on Grimmjow's face made her hold off on asking.

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked Ulquiorra, her hands nervously clasped before her on the table.

"Not yet." He finished his soup, leaving a layer of soppy mustard in the center of the bowl bottom.

"Oh ..." She bit her lip, watching the threatening look crossing Grimmjow's face. "Well, I suppose ... you have to stay somewhere."

"It's no concern of yours where he stays, Orihime," Grimmjow spat. "You fed him; you're done."

"Don't speak to her that way," Ulquiorra said, more than suggesting.

Orihime tried to work up a smile for Ulquiorra. "I'll go check if your clothes are dry."

She hopped to her feet and went to the dryer, retying her robe as she went.

Ulquiorra made a slightly uncomfortable face at the bowl before him. "Is this good? The food she made, is it good?"

Grimmjow nodded automatically. "Of course it's good. Not like that bland shit you get from the vendors on the streets."

Ulquiorra swallowed down a pop of heartburn that flamed up his throat. "Oh."

Orihime returned quickly, smiling, holding Ulquiorra's folded and still warm clothes to him. He stood up and made a small bow, catching his towel as it slipped at his hips, bringing a mumbled curse from Grimmjow who watched the handoff intently, eyes lingering on Orihime's movements. "They dried really fast because they're all cotton."

"Thank you, Orihime," Ulquiorra said. "That's very kind of you. I'll change."

He went to the bathroom, leaving her to face Grimmjow's scowl as he stood up from the table. Grimmjow looked to where her hand was clasped over her opposite wrist. She took a step back as he rounded the table.

His eyes rose from her arm to her face, the glare falling away. "I didn't mean that," he said lowly, voice devoid of the irritation she'd expected. He nodded to her hold on her wrist. "I didn't mean to hurt your arm."

Her hand dropped from her wrist. "Oh, it's okay." She nodded too many times. "It doesn't hurt."

"Don't lie to me."

She looked down at the light red mark at the side of her wrist, shaking her head again. "It's all right."

He glanced to the bathroom, and then to where her bedroom doorway opened across from it. He looked back to her. "You're going to ask him to stay, aren't you?"

"I can't very well send him away," she said, inching back as he stepped nearer.

"You had no problem telling me to get the hell out when I showed up," he reminded, taking another step.

She shook her head, eyes widening at the grave look on his face. "You surprised me."

He raised an eyebrow. "He didn't surprise you?"

"Well, yes, but ... Well, not as much as you did." She bit her lip, nodding. "He doesn't have any place else to go."

"Neither did I," he said, making an effort to keep his tone from raising.

"I didn't throw you out, Grimmjow," she said, trying to smile a little. "You're still here."

He snorted an unamused laugh. "How long are you going to give him? Five days? Does he have to make a list of words not to use?"

She frowned, eyes going to the bathroom door as it opened. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."

"How long?" he asked again, voice low as Ulquiorra stepped out of the bathroom.

She forced herself to respond. "I don't know. I ... I'm ..."

She left off speaking as Ulquiorra joined them, now in his white clothes from earlier, his green eyes sharp on Grimmjow's proximity to her. He held up a handful of crumpled and now-dried roll of bills.

Grimmjow grinned at Orihime, nothing in the smile to make her want to return it. "Oh, he has _money_. That should help."

She nodded, taking a deep breath, which drew both Espadas' attention to her camisole. "I was thinking, Ulquiorra," she said as his eyes rose to hers, "if you have no place else to go," she smiled a little as the line at his mouth relaxed into a barely detectable curve, "you could stay here. For a while. Unless you have other plans."

Grimmjow's jaw set tight.

An almost smile lent Ulquiorra's face. "That's very generous of you, Orihime. I have nowhere else to go."

She nodded, caught between wanting to smile fully and the growing glower ingrained on Grimmjow's face. "Good."

Grimmjow turned on her. "_Good_?"

She recoiled a step back, hand clutching her robe edges at her chest.

"Yes," Ulquiorra said, enjoying the other Espada's discomfort. "She said _good_."

* * *

**_Thanks for reading! Poll is up!_**


	10. Pillow Talk

There was no sleep to be had by anyone that night, and not for the reasons Grimmjow would have liked to imagine. An hour after the soup was finished, the first glimpse of dawn was breaking through the kitchen window, the rain having poured itself out. Despite looking less than her usual sparkly self, Orihime dressed for the day in a pale blue tank top and bright pink shorts, tied her hair up into a ponytail, and decided it was time for breakfast.

Grimmjow was still becoming used to the mechanics of eating and the effects of hunger, so he was open to the early meal. They'd spent the last hour at the table counting and arguing over the pile of wrinkled money Ulquiorra produced from his pocket.

Grimmjow counted it himself, scowl increasing as he realized the difference in Fourth and Sixth rank severance and monetary adjustments.

"It's still more," Ulquiorra said tersely as they looked at the money Orihime had arranged into piles on the table. "Why does that surprise you?"

"You get twenty percent more for babysitting her?" Grimmjow jabbed a finger in Orihime's direction as she finished making rice at the kitchen counter. "You didn't do anything but hang out in there and bemoan her friends that were coming to her aid. How strenuous was that?"

Ulquiorra glanced to Orihime, his voice lowering as he leaned to address Grimmjow. "You don't know what went on in there."

"Nnoitra knew."

"Nnoitra was a dirty-minded fool."

"I know that, but he was an eavesdropping dirty-minded fool," Grimmjow said, one fist clenching on the table as he scowled at the other Espada. "And where the hell were you when she needed you? You let Loli and Menoli beat her half to death."

Orihime shot a quick look at the table as she collected the three bowls of rice and assorted additives from the counter.

Ulquiorra sighed, looking guiltily to her as she sat down with them at the table. "I regret that. It was my fault."

Grimmjow nodded. "Damn right."

"Don't act like you were a hero, Grimmjow. You didn't go in there to --"

"Who told you?"

"Wondersweiss."

"That thumb sucking little shit," Grimmjow growled as Orihime set his bowl before him, frowning at him. "You failed, Schiffer. You weren't there when it mattered. Dammit, Luppi could have done a hell of better job protecting her."

Orihime's hand had poised in reaction to the cursing, but she didn't reach across the table.

Grimmjow's eyes dropped to her hand, raising an eyebrow. "Do it."

She shook her head, fingers curling across her palm. "He didn't _let_ them do anything --"

"Don't defend him!" Grimmjow grabbed his chopsticks.

"He's right," Ulquiorra said, frowning at her. "I should've been there."

Orihime opened her mouth to say something, and then remained silent when she couldn't choose exactly what was less inappropriate to say about the whole encounter.

Ulquiorra picked up his chopsticks, looking at her hand still half-cupped. "What were you going to do?"

She shook her head, tapping her chopsticks on the table. "Nothing."

"You were going to slap him?" Ulquiorra liked the idea, but only for a moment. "Why not?"

"I wasn't going to slap him." She picked through the bowl of rice, and then opened the bottle of curry in the center of the table. She poured a large circle of the sauce around the top of the rice and topped it next with a large plop of peanut butter from another jar.

"Slap me?" Grimmjow chuckled, scooping up a bite of rice. "Just 'cause she belted you in chops doesn't me she would anyone else."

Orihime bit her lip, the day of double-Espadas stretching long before her.

Ulquiorra looked from her to Grimmjow, whose expression was something between confrontation and amusement, at his expense. He followed her example and added a sizeable portion of curry to his bowl.

"A lot of mistakes were made during the War," he said to no one unparticular.

Orihime's brown eyes stayed on her rice. "I don't think about it anymore."

Ulquiorra looked to her quickly. "At all?"

Her face softened a little as she looked to him. "Not much."

Grimmjow scooped up more rice onto his chopsticks than should have been possible, eyeing the row of condiment bottles before him. "How long are giving Scissorhands here before you kick him out?"

"Oh, there's no need to..." Orihime stopped herself from saying something that would send Grimmjow into verbal convulsions. She'd momentously underestimated the rift between the two once highly-ranked Arrancars, and becoming human hadn't done much to ease the tensions. "I suppose you'll need clothes," she said, nodding at Ulquiorra's white shirt that was similar in design to Grimmjow's when he'd first shown up and demanded entrance at her door. "And a few necessities."

Grimmjow shook his head, chewing a large mouthful of rice he'd left naked of condiments. "Just the basics. He won't be here long enough to need anything elaborate." His eyes went to hers, piercing through the tripled layer of thin armor she tried to keep in place since the night before. "Will he?"

She shook her head slowly, swallowing the spicy rice, looking to Ulquiorra, who was watching with his usual caution. "We haven't finished Grimmjow's shopping for paint for his new place, so we can go to the clothes shops in town, too." She smiled, nodding, and then thought more about her last venture into the men's department for clothing. Her smile faded as her blush surfaced. She tried to smile again. "It'll be fun."

"Then he can get a job and you'll be rid of him," Grimmjow added, finishing his rice, pushing the bowl away. "_Right_?"

"What's your hurry? You'll be out of here tomorrow," Ulquiorra said, then turned to Orihime. "Right?"

She looked between them as she reached for her glass of apricot juice, half drowning her answer in it.

Ulquiorra's gaze rested on the slight red marks at her wrist. He looked to Grimmjow, who'd noted the observation. "You brute."

"Mind your own business," Grimmjow snapped, but he gave Orihime a less stern look.

"You keep your hands off her," Ulquiorra said in a low but deadly tone. "She's not _your_ captive, either."

"I said it's none of your business," Grimmjow insisted, eyes narrowing on the slighter man.

She didn't like the crossing of words, not so soon in the day with so little sleep for any of them. She smiled quickly and stood up. "Let's get an early start on shopping." In response both Espada looked at her legs, and finally up to her face. She quickly collected their empty bowls before they could refocus their attentions on the scoop of her tank top, and took the dishes into the kitchen.

* * *

The day was already hot by the time they reached the first row of shops Orihime deemed safe to invade, far enough away from anyone she knew, close enough that she could find their way back home.

Home.

The word meant different things to her now.

Safety was all but gone, privacy becoming a memory, and a subtle, creeping identity crisis blooming -- but that was them. Not her.

After fighting tooth and nail and whatever bankai tricks they had up their sleeves for ranking among Aizen's echelon, the two Espadas were grasping at their new identities in the Living World, and forcing her along for the ride.

_Not him_, she thought again, looking up at Ulquiorra to her right side as they searched the small clothes shops for his new wardrobe. She'd invited him into her apartment.

Which made her look to Grimmjow at her other side, hovering as usual, too close and adding body heat to the already warm weather of the day. He'd made an effort at the buttons on his shirt, half accomplished, mostly the bottom half, and none too carefully, she noticed.

"You're misbuttoned," she said, turning to him after checking the sidewalk traffic ahead of her.

He frowned, leaning down in confusion. "I'm what?"

She nodded to his shirt where the buttons were misaligned in some of the wrong button holes. "A few are off."

"I don't want them all buttoned."

She pointed to the couple that were in the wrong holes. "Not that; you missed a button. Here."

He shrugged as their steps slowed. "Go ahead."

She shied a step away, bumping into Ulquiorra, drawing his attention. "Me?"

"You don't like how I do them, you fix them."

It was a dare she should have seen coming, but she was already shaking her head and picking the buttons out of the wrong stitched holes of the denim shirt before she thought it through. She rebuttoned two of the closures. His shirt smoothed into hanging straight at his chest.

She was about to add a comment, but after seeing the hint of a grin on his face she only gave him a simmering frown. "You did that on purpose."

She turned to look back at the shops on the business side of the sidewalk to see Ulquiorra watching with unmasked interest as he paused their walk. She tried to smile at what passed for a scowl on his face.

He sent the taller Espada a sharp look. "Take care of your own clothes, Grimmjow."

"Shut up."

Eager to move away from her mistakes, Orihime read the sign over the doorway to the shop catering to menswear. "Let's try this one."

Inside the small shop was packed with racks and shelves, less fashionable but more selection than the larger store she had visited with Grimmjow in what was seeming so long ago. The lack of sleep was catching up with her.

The tired looking cashier was alone at his checkout, giving them a semi-interested look when he saw the trio walk into the store. He gave Ulquiorra's appearance a shake of his head.

Orihime saw the new addition to her Espada collection frown slightly at the cashier. He did look a little different than she remembered, she had to admit to herself, but not much. The lines trailing from his eyes were thinner, not quite as dark or long, but definitely still there. She leaned closer to him as they made their way through the crowded racks and rows of clothing on hangers and stuffed into shelves.

"Uh, Ulquiorra, sometimes people can be rude here, in the Living World," she said gently as his eyes turned to her. She smiled, hoping to ease his transition into her world. "People might ... stare. Just ignore them. Ignore anything they say."

"I'm not worried about it," he said, moving through the lines of clothing, following her when the rows became close, too jammed with shirts for two people to pass at the same time.

"Good."

There was the sound of Grimmjow snorting in ridicule from behind them, but Ulquiorra didn't turn. Orihime only glanced at him as they stopped before a rack of shirts in blues, grays, and tans. He shook his head at her.

She moved the shirts around on the rack, eyeing Ulquiorra's build, blushing a little as she did. "I think your size would be..." She held up a gray button-up shirt. "How about this?"

He looked at the shirt without much interest. "If you think it would be suitable."

"Oh, you should decide."

"I don't care for clothes shopping, Orihime. I trust your judgment."

"It's a shirt," Grimmjow growled, leaning over Orihime to him. "That's all. Do you want it or not?"

Orihime was looking around the store, wishing for some piped in music to camouflage the rising tone Grimmjow was failing to mute. She saw no changing rooms, unsure whether that was good or not.

"Did she pick out your shirts?" Ulquiorra wanted to know.

Grimmjow very much wanted to say yes, but it wasn't true. He was about to say something far more damaging -- on Orihime's behalf -- but this time she saw it coming.

"He already knew what he wanted," she said quickly, turning her back to Grimmjow. She held up the shirt to Ulquiorra's neck by its hanger, tilting her head to one side as she considered it against him. "This is a good color. Do you like gray?"

"It's fine."

Grimmjow reached over her shoulder and snatched the hanger from her. "He said yes. Move on."

She frowned at him and searched through the rack of shirts again. "You could look for more clothes, too, Grimmjow. Maybe some t-shirts."

Ulquiorra was already looking around the store at the other racks, ones far away from where he and Orihime stood. "Are those t-shirts over there?"

He pointed, and Orihime looked to the display rack of t-shirts against one wall. "Yes," she said, nodding. She turned to Grimmjow. "You might like t-shirts better," she said, eyes resting on the unfastened buttons of his shirt. "No buttons, and you just slip them over your head. No closures."

Grimmjow gave Ulquiorra a shrewd look, caught between what he guessed the Espada was up to and the lure of buttonless shirts. He put the shirt hanger back in Orihime's hands, glancing sharply at her. "No changing rooms for you."

She took the hanger. "It wasn't my choice last time."

He left them, winding his way to the far wall.

Ulquiorra's eyes dropped to Orihime. "Does he give you any problems?"

"No," she said, without much effort behind it. She added a little more conviction. "He's been okay. It just surprised me when he showed up at the door."

"You didn't know he was coming over?"

She shook her head, fingers tensing on the hanger, his inquisitive eyes making her want to answer more thoroughly than she thought she should. "I'm sure it's been a difficult adjustment for him. And you, too," she said, gaze drifting to the rack, searching for shirts she thought he'd like. She pulled a tan cotton one out and held it up to his chest, smiling more. "What about this one?"

He looked down at the shirt, nodding slightly. "It's okay." He glanced to where Grimmjow was jerking hangers of t-shirts across a rack, low cursing heard from across the store, bringing a look of disdain from the cashier watching.

"Why did you put your hand over his mouth last night?" He'd wanted to ask the question since he'd seen it happen, but was unsure of her response. Finding Grimmjow in her apartment was enough of a shock. Even replaying the brief contact between her and his former rival and colleague hadn't clarified what the action meant.

And he wanted clarification.

"Oh, that," she said, more of a flush to her cheeks as she searched for the best way to describe her terms regarding the list of words on the fish notepad. "He promised not to swear in my apartment." She slid a few hangers on the rack, picking out a light gray one with short sleeves. "Sometimes he forgets."

"He doesn't forget," he said as she held the shirt up to his chest, estimating its fit on him. "He doesn't try, Orihime."

She half shrugged, her other hand brushing smooth a few of the wrinkles from the shirt until she realized his chest was still beneath the material. She withdrew her hand. "I think he tries. Most of the time. I know sometimes he doesn't care."

He took her forearm as she lowered the shirt, his touch gentle below her wrist, turning it to see the faint red marks Grimmjow's grip had left the night before. "He shouldn't manhandle you."

The blush increased across her cheeks, the heat of the day upon her, even in the air-cooled store. She nodded. "He apologized."

He frowned, eyes darting to where Grimmjow had turned, now watching them, expression growing more lethal by the second. "He comes bullying his way in and demands you let him stay with you?"

It was a more accurate description of the first Espada's self-invitation into her life than Orihime liked, but she shook her head. "Not quite. Maybe, kind of... I agreed he could stay until tomorrow." She heard or felt -- she wasn't sure which -- Grimmjow approach from the aisle behind her. She pulled her arm from Ulquiorra's fingers. "I promised to help him paint his new place tomorrow. You can come, too."

"What?" Grimmjow threw a heather green t-shirt at the other Espada, who caught it out of self-defense. "He's not coming over to my place. He can get his own damn place."

She turned, back sinking against the rack of t-shirts as she looked to Grimmjow. "He can help paint."

Grimmjow was shaking his head as Ulquiorra scowled back at him. "There's not enough room for three people there."

Orihime's eyes were on the few t-shirts clutched in his hand. "It's not that small, Grimmjow. Did you find anything you like?"

He showed her the few t-shirts, listened to her make the right comments -- color, choice of graphic designs, something else he wasn't paying much attention to -- and then watched as she continued to help Ulquiorra pick out his new wardrobe, including a pair of pajama pants.

Not quite painful, he decided, not by Arrancar standards, but nowhere near pleasant, either.

And Ulquiorra enjoyed it. That was obvious, even in the indifferent expression on his face.

* * *

Fortunately the worst of the shopping was over soon, with Ulquiorra gathering the basics of Life-keep, and they headed out to the hot and humid streets in search of a late lunch. Grimmjow's first day off from work and his free time was slipping fast, and Ulquiorra's presence was going to linger after he left for his new home the next day. That was becoming clear to him.

Orihime insisted on eating lunch at the nearby park, close to where they'd done most of their shopping, far enough away from her usual circuit of shops and favorite park that she wouldn't see any of her school friends. They found a picnic table and settled at it, a shady spot under the canopy of a large oak tree, their view overlooking a set of swings and a few tables pushed together for a child's birthday party.

She organized their Styrofoam cups and plastic containers from the nearby stand selling rice balls and boxed sushi choices. Both Espadas watched with interest and unconcealed confusion, their questions centering about why eat outside as opposed to wait until they got back to her apartment.

"It's such a nice day," she said, eyes flinching to Grimmjow as she used the word. He didn't seem to mind, she decided, his attention on the food containers she was arranging. She looked to Ulquiorra. "Aren't you hungry?"

He had one hand at his stomach. "I think so."

"You're still helping with the food shopping," Grimmjow said more than asked of Orihime as she sat down -- next to Ulquiorra, he also noticed.

She nodded immediately, pushing the box of sushi varieties to him. "We should do that after you're moved in, someplace close to where you live so the groceries won't get too warm. Oh, and we need to get paint yet."

He nodded, eyes on Ulquiorra. "He should be looking for work."

Orihime unwrapped three straws and stuck them in each of their foam beverage cups, drawing odd looks from both of them. "About that," she said, looking to Grimmjow with something akin to hope, and a little apprehension, "what about the fish market? Is there anything there for him?"

Grimmjow had just popped a large chunk of tuna and shaped rice into his mouth. He chewed it vigorously. "You want me to find him a _job_? Damn, girl. Ease up a little."

"I didn't mean it that way," she said, trying to decide how exactly what she meant was different. She opened a packet of soy sauce and dribbled it over her rice ball. "Maybe if there's anything that needs an extra worker. Something far away from where you unload trucks," she added as a precaution.

Ulquiorra was sampling the block of rice he'd picked from the container of sushi. "I don't need his help. I'll find my own work."

In the few minutes that Orihime had suggested the idea Grimmjow's mind had already advanced the suggestion. "There might be something. Maybe he can help sell flowers," he grunted, glare focused on the other man.

Ulquiorra knew by the tone alone it was an insult. "What's wrong with that?"

Grimmjow grinned, reaching for his beverage. "Nothing, for you." He watched Orihime's lips close around the straw in her own beverage, and then looked to his own cup. And then back to her sipping.

A shout rose from the children's birthday party behind Orihime and Ulquiorra, and they turned to look in that direction. A dozen elementary aged children were laughing and clapping as a few adult women set chairs in a circle, facing outward. Another mother nearby was adjusting a radio to a perky tune.

Orihime turned back to her lunch, and had just packed a large bite of rice and fish into mouth when she caught Grimmjow's attention still on the party. He'd lost part of his caustic glare, more interest in his study than criticism as he watched. She pivoted on the bench seat, one leg on each side of it to see better what held his curiosity.

The women were assembling the children to play Musical Chairs, with the obvious birthday boy wearing a pair of deely-boppers in glittery blue that caught the bright sun. The music started, and the kids quickly formed a circle, marching around the chairs in time, their concentration flitting between the chairs and the woman at the radio. The music stopped and the kids rushed the chairs.

One small girl didn't get there in time, and ran urgently around the seated children, anxious to find an empty chair. Realizing there was none for her, she stepped back from the circle. The children stood up and a mother removed a chair. The music began again.

The girl slowly walked to the picnic tables and sat down, posture slumped, legs swinging as her arms crossed over her chest, glancing forlornly at the children skipping around the chairs again.

"What are they doing?" Grimmjow asked, eyes on the girl at the table. "Why isn't she allowed with the rest?"

Orihime leaned over the plastic container with her lunch in it. "It's a birthday party. They're playing Musical Chairs. A children's game." She chewed through a bite of rice. "It's fun."

The music stopped again and another little girl was out.

Ulquiorra watched without blinking, a growing frown on his face. "Why do they make the girls leave the circle? Why does that woman keep taking the chairs away?"

Under other circumstances Orihime would have giggled at the inane questions coming from two of the scariest beings she'd ever met. But those were other times, and as she'd told them, she didn't want to think about those times. "That's the game. There are fewer chairs than children, and they all walk around the circle of chairs until the music stops, and then they all rush to get a chair. Whichever child doesn't get a seat is out of the game. It's fun. Just a game."

Ulquiorra watched intently for two more rounds of the odd demotion before turning back to his meal. He frowned at Orihime, a particularly solemn expression on his face. "It doesn't look like much fun for those four girls."

Orihime glanced to the girls that were out of the game, sitting at the picnic table, the first one now in tears that no one seemed to notice. "It doesn't matter if it's a girl or boy out. There can be only one winner," she explained, smiling a little. "It's just a game. A process of elimination."

Grimmjow had noticed the girl crying, even as the other children were removed from the game, her small form getting lost in the line of children sitting beside her, several of the larger boys jostling her as they made room for themselves on the seat. Orihime watched his observation, something in his expression piquing her interest, something that reminded her of the way he'd looked at the kitten in the pet shop.

But then he worked through that expression and on to something more irritable.

"That's a children's game?" He muttered a line of words that should have earned him a response from Orihime, but she didn't do anything. It was the park, after all. "I thought you people treated the little ones better. _Nicely_," he said, leaning across the table to Orihime, who didn't move away. "That's not nice. What's wrong with those women?"

It wasn't the reaction she thought the game would evoke from him, or anyone. "That's how the game is played. It's not done with ill intentions, Grimmjow."

Ulquiorra had turned again to watch, growing displeasure on his face. "I don't like it."

"After all that bullshit about hearts and feelings and being sensitive to others," Grimmjow grumbled, "bunch of hypocrites. Heartless. You humans use all that shit to hurt each other. How is that any different than --"

Ulquiorra recognized some of the terminology. "Where'd you hear all that?"

It brought a grin from Grimmjow despite his newfound injustice in the Living World. "I told you, Nnoitra was an eavesdropper. You think anything you discussed in her room at Las Noches was secret? Idiot."

Orihime and Ulquiorra looked at each other, a few common thoughts giving them both pause for a long moment as Grimmjow watched with increasing annoyance.

"What the hell are you two looking like that about?" he wanted to know, interest in the children's party lost. "Looks to me like you're pretty damn guilty over something."

"No," she said, eyes going back to the meal before her. "I didn't like Nnoitra."

"No one liked Nnoitra," Ulquiorra said, reaching for his beverage cup. "Except you," he said to Grimmjow.

"I didn't like him either. Him and Szayel." Grimmjow looked behind them at the children as the music stopped again. "Damn game."

Orihime nodded as she thought more about the activity. "I guess it does seem cruel."

They dropped the subject, each of them for different reasons, and finished lunch before moving on to finish the shopping. It wasn't much, a couple of buckets of paint and brushes and rollers, and a trip through the hardware's greenhouse at the back of the building. It took half an hour to pick a color -- a shade of blue -- and mix the paint, most of the time spent with Orihime dissuading Grimmjow from opening the gallon-size buckets of paint with his bare hands to check the colors inside. Ulquiorra passed his time making comments about the untrainability of the former Sexta, most of which Grimmjow either ignored or outright agreed with.

Orihime had tried to get him to buy a plant for his new apartment, but he hadn't wanted to look at the greenery, instead inadvertently fumbling a few of the macramé hanging planters into hopeless knots. She stopped him from further exploration when he showed interest in a hammock hung up for display.

* * *

It was with growing weariness that Orihime let them into her apartment late that hot afternoon, edginess over seeing any of her friends on the street in company of her houseguests now replaced by the impending end of the day. She looked at the couch in her apartment, Grimmjow's pillow to one side. She glanced at the large cushion she generally used as furniture. Not much choice.

_Maybe they could fight it out among themselves and the survivor could have their pick_, she thought tiredly. She cringed at the idea.

It took only half an hour for them to unload the purchases in various spots in the apartment. Under Grimmjow's careful study Ulquiorra stowed his meager pile of clothes on a separate spot on Orihime's desk against one wall, beside Grimmjow's stack of folded clothing. Beside the desk was a growing stash of boxes and bags containing the Sixth Espada's new furnishings for his apartment.

Ulquiorra looked at the items with fascination, squatting to look at the pictures on the boxes, a slow grin crossing his face. So it was true.

After dinner of take-out pizza, which Grimmjow had suggested -- not the pizza part, but that they should bring food in rather than have Orihime cook after little sleep the night before -- and Ulquiorra had insisted on lending a hand in anteing up for the bill after a crash course in monetary values from Orihime, evening slipped in on them.

Orihime found fifteen minutes of uninterrupted solace in the shower, letting the hot water steam up the small bathroom until she nearly couldn't breathe, reveling in her lonesomeness, trying to put off leaving the room for as long as she dared.

Until she got worried about the quietness of her apartment, and her guests that could very well be killing each other in numerous ways, even unarmed.

She reluctantly dried her hair with a towel, closing her eyes momentarily against the sight of the new bottle of aftershave and razor beside Grimmjow's set on the sink vanity, telling herself it was only a matter of time. She took a deep breath, and hesitantly picked up the blue bottle. She twisted the cap off and gave it a tentative sniff.

Yup, Grimmjow, recently.

She replaced it and chided herself as she took the lime green bottle Ulquiorra had purchased that afternoon during the hasty trip through the pharmacy. She took the cap off and testily sniffed it. _Not quite him,_ she thought, _not yet_. She set it back down, guilt rushing her.

She had no definite proof, but she knew they'd gone through her stuff, at least most of her things in the medicine cabinet. Maybe not all of it.

She tossed out those thoughts and wiped down the steamy mirror on the cabinet and opened it. The sight of the orange and blue toothbrushes now joined by a purple one greeted her. None of them were touching. The Tiki god holder was equally peeved.

"You're on your own," she mumbled at the idol. She pulled her pajama shorts as low as they'd go over her legs and retied her robe tight at her waist and headed out to endure an evening of television.

By the time she got to the living room Grimmjow had changed into his pajama bottoms and was planted at what was becoming his end of the couch, slouched back to the corner with one arm across the top of back, watching her sneak her entrance from the bathroom.

Ulquiorra was at the opposite side of the couch, now in a pair of charcoal pajama bottoms but also an over-sized gray t-shirt out of either modesty or intimidation, eyes registering a new level of fascination as Orihime approached them.

She looked between them for a few seconds, estimating the amount of room left in the center of the couch. Nearly a whole cushion.

"Sit down," Grimmjow said, nodding to the spot beside him. "Movie is about to start."

Her eyes went to the TV. "Oh, _Crybaby_," she said, relief at what she considered a safe choice for the evening. At least the edited version of the film. It had her favorite foreign film star in it, so she was anxious to see the whole movie. It was too early to go to bed, too soon to eat again, and the weather had turned into a muggy drizzle outside in the fall of night. She didn't want to be cooped up in her bedroom so soon. "It must be Johnny Depp week on this station. Good."

She went to the small stand beside Ulquiorra's end of the couch and flicked the already lit lamp onto a brighter setting, and then carefully stepped over his extended legs as he moved them out of her way. She sat on the center cushion, for a moment too conscious of her surroundings to breathe, and not for the same reasons she'd felt suffocated as she had in Aizen's presence.

She collected her robe close around her as either Espada watched, both judging her distance to each of them, drawing their own conclusions.

She looked to Ulquiorra first. "I can show you how to run the shower, if you like."

"He can figure it out," Grimmjow said, flicking the remote control to raise the TV volume as the movie began. "He's clever, remember?"

She nodded, glancing to the small set as the opening credits rolled.

"Thank you, perhaps tomorrow morning," Ulquiorra said, watching her knees cross over the couch edge.

"That's when you should go to the market about work," Grimmjow said, remote gripped in his hand, eyes on Ulquiorra's attention. "Get there early when the flower stalls open."

Orihime looked to him in surprise. "You'd help him?"

He spared her half a glare. "That's not help; common sense." He sent Ulquiorra the rest of the glare. "Six in the morning. That's your best bet."

She nodded, warming to the idea, looking to Ulquiorra. "We'd have to leave early, to catch the train, but --"

"You don't have to go with him," Grimmjow said, hand across the couch behind her closing into a fist. "He can take care of himself."

"Oh, I know," she said flinching slightly from him, looking back to Ulquiorra, who was watching Grimmjow's hand nearest him, attached to the arm behind Orihime, not quite touching her shoulders. "But for moral support."

Ulquiorra nodded, eyes rising to Grimmjow's smirk. "What time do you work there?"

Grimmjow didn't want to answer with the truth, but another day and he'd be absent from her apartment, and lying would do him little good. "Evenings."

"Oh, that's good," Orihime said, nodding eagerly as she looked to each of them in turn. "You won't have to see each other much."

They all looked back at the TV, watching for a few long moments, neither of the Espada keeping much track of the plot, which mainly consisted of singing and dancing, angsting teenagers and poor-handsome-boy infatuations. With a teardrop tattoo.

Orihime wasn't caught up in the romantic comedy either, not like she usually liked to be, not in her present company, until the actress Traci Lords made her first appearance in the movie as a pouty bit player.

"She looks familiar," Grimmjow said as the blonde actress got her close-up.

Oblivious, Orihime nodded. "Hey, how about popcorn?"

This time both Ulquiorra and Grimmjow looked at her.

"Popcorn. It's a food, a snack." She could see neither of them was familiar with the treat. "I'll make some."

Grimmjow growled something as she hopped off the couch and went into the dimly lit kitchen and set about making microwave popcorn. His eyes narrowed on the TV screen.

"You don't like the movie?" Ulquiorra asked, noting the larger Espada's sudden annoyance.

Grimmjow came to a conclusion, pointing at the TV. "Do you know what she is?"

Ulquiorra tried to find the trap in the query. "An actress, I assume."

Grimmjow turned to look at Orihime standing at the microwave, her back to them, head bobbing slightly as she counted down the beeps of the timer as the bag of popcorn popped. He looked back to the TV set. "She really has no idea what the hell she does half the time." He aimed the remote at the set and pushed random buttons until the latest episode of _Sasuke_ came on.

"Put it back on the movie," Ulquiorra said as Orihime returned with a large bowl of popcorn laced with butter.

"We're not watching that." Grimmjow turned up the volume until the announcer was screaming excitedly.

Orihime sat down and put the bowl on her lap, eyes on the TV. "Oh, you didn't like the movie?"

Grimmjow leaned closer to her, searching her eyes until she shifted away. "Have you seen that movie before?"

She managed a weak smile, trying not to squeak as she spoke. "Parts of it."

He shook his head, sitting back. "Not all of it?"

"No." She sighed, wondering at his sudden dislike, looking back to the TV. "Oh, this is good, too." She offered the bowl to Ulquiorra. "Try it."

He looked at the white puffed corn and took a few pieces. "Thank you." He watched her turn the bowl to Grimmjow. "If she wants to watch her movie, Grimmjow, change it back over."

"She doesn't." Grimmjow took a handful of the popcorn, severe look making Orihime frown. "You surprise me. You get all clammed up about being in the dressing room with me, but you want to sit here with us and watch _that_?"

Her eyes grew round in both confusion and the mention. "What, what...?"

"That!" he pointed at the TV.

"What dressing room?" Ulquiorra asked, the popcorn halfway to his mouth. "What _that_?"

"That chick from the shit Nnoitra watches," Grimmjow said, for once his editing mechanism in force. "What he watches _alone_, Ulquiorra." He looked to Orihime. "You haven't got a clue, do you, girl?"

She frowned at him, mind unable to process information she didn't have. "I've never seen that actress in anything else, but if it has anything to do with Nnoitra, then... then I think you're right." Her hand drifted into the bowl as she watched a contestant on the TV show plummet into the dirty water over the obstacle course.

Ulquiorra's attention was on Grimmjow. "Nnoitra? She obviously didn't know, Grimmjow."

"I can see that." There was a brief moment of agreement between them, and then it was gone.

"What dressing room?" Ulquiorra asked either of them. When Orihime didn't want to answer, stuffing her mouth with a wad of popcorn, and Grimmjow was content to grin rather than answer, Ulquiorra cleared his throat.

"Who's dressing room?"

Orihime munched harder, hoping the question would go away.

It didn't.

Ulquiorra looked to where a few tendrils of her hair lay over Grimmjow's arm behind her along the couch back. "Someone answer me."

"Grimmjow had trouble with some snaps," she said quickly, not looking at him. "That's all."

Ulquiorra looked to the other Espada. "What kind of snaps?"

"On his shirt," she said, licking her fingers of the buttery layer of salt sticking to them, eyes on the next contestant readying to take on the obstacle course on TV.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed on Grimmjow's grin. "You letch."

"Not me. Didn't lay a hand on her."

Orihime looked up at him, unwilling to correct the statement without making the situation worse.

He chuckled at her reluctance.

Ulquiorra left the topic alone, letting it fester in his mind over the next hour and a half.

During that time the popcorn disappeared, accompanied by tall glasses of Orange Crush that Orihime brought out and served when the salt factor attacked them all. Shortly after that she announced she was retiring for the night.

Grimmjow stood up when she did, followed by Ulquiorra.

She looked to each of them, and then to the pillow at the end of the couch. "I've been so thoughtless," she said to Ulquiorra. "I didn't think about it tonight."

With that she hurried to her room.

Ulquiorra allowed a small smile as he looked to Grimmjow, who was equal parts suspicious and watchful.

"Don't even think it, Scissorhands," he growled at the Fourth Espada. "She's not your type."

"Nor yours."

"You're not her type," Grimmjow muttered darkly, taking a step toward the slighter man. "Sad-looking crybaby clown."

"You think she'd ever stoop to give you a second look?" Ulquiorra said as Orihime returned, a pillow wrapped in her arms.

She looked to each of them as they halted their conversation and handed the pillow to Ulquiorra. "I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier. It's --"

Grimmjow ripped the pillow from Ulquiorra. "Don't give him your pillow, Orihime."

She frowned up at him. "He has to have a pillow. I don't mind."

He shoved the pillow back at her until she took it. "Not yours."

She gave the pillow back to Ulquiorra, her frown still on Grimmjow. "It's only hospitable. He's a guest here."

Ulquiorra looked down at the pillow in his hands, smile increasing. "Thank you, Orihime."

Grimmjow swiped it from him again and held it out to Orihime, making her take a step back. "Not yours."

She put her hands on her hips, the tie at her waist stretching loose until her camisole beneath was exposed. "I'm only trying to be a good hostess," she snapped back at him. "If he's going to stay here, then ..."

Neither Espada heard what she said for the next ten seconds, collective attention on the embroidered collar of her periwinkle camisole that she failed to hide.

"...it back," she said. When Grimmjow didn't move, having not heard her speech, she looked down at where his and Ulquiorra's eyes were focused. She blushed and flipped the edges of her robe together over herself and tied it tight enough to make her wince.

Grimmjow's mind caught up to what she'd said. "Not yours," he muttered. He turned to the couch, grabbed the pillow he'd been using and flung it at Ulquiorra, who was only two feet away. "Use that."

"Take it." Grimmjow held her own pillow back to her, but Orihime refused to take it.

"Now you don't have one," she said, shaking her head at the pillow. Seeing she was as close to winning as possible, she forced a smile at both him and Ulquiorra. "We'll get an early start in the morning for the fish market. Goodnight."

Before Grimmjow could move, she left the room and headed for her bedroom.

Ulquiorra looked after her, the pillow clutched in his hands, the pliability foreign to his fingers.

The soft peachy scent of the pillow in Grimmjow's hands made him look to it.

"You took her pillow," Ulquiorra said. "Shame on you."

Grimmjow's eyes snapped from the pillow to him. "Shut the hell up. Everything was fine until you dragged your lousy ass through the door, bat."

He stormed to the desk where his shopping bags were awaiting delivery to his new residence. He plunged a large hand in one and found the pillow he'd purchased the day before, and marched to Orihime's closed bedroom door.

"Open up."

"What do you want?" Her voice sounded far away.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth, his back to what he was sure to be Ulquiorra's contemptuous enjoyment. "I want you to open the door. Orihime."

The door peeped open a few inches and she looked out at him from the dark of her room.

"A little more," he said, holding the pillow to the doorway.

She looked at the caseless pillow. "That's your new one." She nodded to the pillow in his other hand. "Give me mine back."

"I'm using that one. Take it," he said, pushing the new pillow to her.

She slowly took it. "Thanks, Grimmjow."

He nodded, her acceptance having surprisingly taken most of the temper out of him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

**_Thanks for reading! Poll is up!_**


	11. When the Music Stops

It was with little sleep from the night before that Orihime set off early Thursday morning across town in the company of two of the once most-dreaded Espadas in several dimensions. She was pleased that Ulquiorra's new clothes fit him well despite not bring able to try them on the preceding day, and equally glad Grimmjow had decided on one of his new t-shirts that required no buttons or closures whatsoever.

They found themselves packed into a train of mostly commuters for the early ride, a bit too packed for Orihime's taste.

For Ulquiorra's taste, too, and particularly for Grimmjow's frame of mind as he glared at anyone daring to make eye contact the three of them. In one hand he carried a bag with his new kitchen appliances and a few paint brushes and rollers and tray, in his other two buckets of paint. Orihime carried a second bag with his new clothes and the few bathroom necessities and towels he'd purchased. Ulquiorra had been spared carrying anything.

Fortunately the ride was a short one, and they spilled out near the Tsukiji station a few blocks away from the market, as Orihime decided a few block's walk was safer than being deposited at the closest locale to the pedestrian-heavy market without the chance to walk off any kinks.

The rambling warehouses of the market were packed, the noise of auction and stall-owners calling through the bustling, crowded aisles of tables and displays as the three let themselves in through an open truck door, Grimmjow leading.

Ulquiorra let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the expansive warehouse, mildly interested as his wary gaze moved over the people milling around the tables and butcher stations, the smells of fresh fish, heady flowers, and assorted vegetables in the air.

"The top guy he needs to talk to is here today," Grimmjow said, mostly to Ulquiorra. "Over there," he added, pointing with the hand holding the paint cans to a man near the fork lifts speaking with several other men. "Guy with the blue hat. That's a no visitor zone. I'll send him over."

"Thanks," Orihime said as he moved off, smiling as she turned to Ulquiorra. "That's real help; not common sense."

Ulquiorra nodded reluctantly.

They watched as Grimmjow made his way across the busy market and waited nearly patiently for the man in the blue hat to finish speaking with the other men. For several moments the large Espada conversed, a few times the man with the blue hat and the others turning to look to where Orihime and Ulquiorra stood at one of the butcher stations, most nodding, a few shaking their heads.

Orihime looked to Ulquiorra as he watched.

"I can imagine what he's telling them," he said, eyes on the group of men. "You know it can't be good."

Orihime switched the shopping bag to her other hand, shifting her weight to stand equally on both feet, wishing she'd worn more practical shoes rather than the yellow sandals that matched her tank top. She smiled at him. "He'll be fair."

"You don't know him, Orihime," he said quietly.

"He hasn't been so bad."

He looked quickly to her. "He hasn't?"

Her eyes darted to his as she rethought her statement. "Not really. Not as bad as I expected."

He frowned, still gauging her response. "What did you expect?"

She didn't want to voice what she'd expected. She tried to laugh a little, but her giggle came out more tremulous than she planned. "Well, I told him he had to keep out of my room, if I agreed he could stay a few days, and he did."

"He did?" Ulquiorra looked back to where Grimmjow was still speaking to the men. "Completely?"

She nodded, the truth in it still surprising her. "I thought he'd at least be curious about anything off-limits to him."

His eyes sharpened on the Espada now approaching them. "I'm sure he still is."

"The guy you need to talk to has a meeting right now, but he said he'll speak to you when he's done," Grimmjow said to Ulquiorra as he met up with them. "You wait."

Ulquiorra sighed and nodded. "Thank you."

Orihime nodded. "Good. That's good news, Ulquiorra."

He looked between her and Grimmjow.

Grimmjow's hand tightened on the bag and paint can handles, scowling at Ulquiorra, and then more intently at Orihime. "I'm going now." He reached for the bag she carried with the hand still holding the bag of appliances, his hand taking up more of the handle she held than room permitted. "I'll take it."

She looked down at the bag handle, two of his fingers covering hers, not relinquishing it as her mind turned over a few details in her head. She looked back to him, a slight flush hinting her cheeks. "I'll keep this and bring it with me when we come over to paint."

Grimmjow frowned at her as Ulquiorra frowned at both of them. "You're still coming over to paint today?"

She nodded, smiling more. "I said I would. You have enough to carry, and this is light. You won't need any of what's in this bag yet anyway, Grimmjow."

He looked to the bag of clothes and towels, slowly releasing the handle. "Today?"

She nodded, putting both hands on the bag handle before her. "Ulquiorra can speak with the man after the meeting, and then we'll meet you at your place."

A dour look crossed Ulquiorra's face, but Grimmjow smirked at the idea.

"Do you remember how to get there?" Grimmjow asked her.

"Yup. We won't get lost. Oh, and I'll pick up some paper plates and cups on the way over," she added, bobbing a nod at him. "We haven't done any shopping for kitchenware yet."

While the words _we_ and _yet_ didn't escape Grimmjow, he held up the bag of appliances. "Then what are these?"

"Those are necessities, but you'll need plates and cups and stuff like that, too," she said. "And groceries. Maybe we could do that tomorrow."

He grinned, partly at Ulquiorra's evident annoyance at the plan, who made more of a frown at Orihime.

"I thought he was moving out today," he said, green eyes pinpointed on Orihime as she nodded slowly. "I thought you were done with him after today."

Her attention went from him to Grimmjow and back again. "I told him I'd help paint, and he needs to stock up on groceries." She smiled slightly, the expression less sure. "I didn't mean to presume," she said to Grimmjow, sighing. "I'm sure you don't need help grocery shopping, but I did say I'd help, and I will, but if you don't need me, I won't intrude --"

"I don't know a damn thing about grocery shopping," he said emphatically. "And unless I bring back a slab of tuna from here, I won't know what to get or where to get it. You're coming with me tomorrow."

She nodded, for once the semi-demand not making her wince. She looked to Ulquiorra, who was giving Grimmjow a narrow stare. "You can come, too, so when you get your own place you'll know all about groceries and stuff like that."

Grimmjow grinned at the shorter Espada, chuckling. "Your own place, Fourth. Get that?"

"I heard her. Hurry along, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said in a low tone.

Grimmjow looked to Orihime's smile once more, and then set off to wind his way through the thronging crowd of shoppers, who gave him right of way.

Orihime sighed as she looked to Ulquiorra. "I wonder how long the meeting will take."

He watched Grimmjow disappear into the mass of people among the stalls and butcher tables. He looked back to Orihime and took the bag from her, which she gave up easily. "Let's wait over there," he said, nodding to a bench where a few older women were resting with their purchases, one fanning herself with a folded paper as she breathed heavily in the warm air thickening from the high traffic of people.

Orihime and Ulquiorra found room for themselves at one end of the bench, the older women giving him a thorough study that took several moments. Ulquiorra did his best not to study them in return, his habitual history of classing people by trash and non-trash standards hard to break, especially when he could see no redeeming qualities in the aged faces staring at him.

Orihime watched their attentions, knowing it was inevitable that people would notice. "They don't mean to be rude," she said gently, low enough that only Ulquiorra could hear her, hoping the old women would be deaf as well. "They probably stare at everyone."

He nodded, giving her his full attention, eyes moving over her hair pulled up into a ponytail. "You look different than I remember."

She smiled. "I do? You're a little different, too."

His gaze went from her hair and hair clips to her eyes, to her yellow tank top and pink shorts. "You look so ... calm. Relaxed." An almost imperceptible sadness hinted his eyes. "Not like I recall you looking, Orihime."

She nodded, her sandal shifting at a crack in the floor as a few children ran past them with a mother in pursuit. "Last time I saw you was so final. I thought you were ... gone -- well, I guess you _were_ ..." she sighed. "What I meant was that I didn't think I'd see you again."

He nodded, twisting the bag's braided cord handle in his fingers. "I know what you meant." He looked out at the children that had been caught by their mother and were receiving a stout reprimand. "I suppose you think its justice that I'm -- we're," he corrected with a scowl, "in need of your assistance now. After taking you captive and all the remarks I made about your friends in Hueco Mundo."

She shook her head, watching him as he observed the children's meek looks under their mother's scolding. "Not really." She tried to laugh, hoping he'd cheer up some. "I can't see you going to anyone else in Karakura Town. I mean, no one that I know."

He looked back to her, the slight amusement in her eyes making him want to smile. Only the shadow of a smile lent his face, but he knew she saw it.

She shrugged, sighing in the day's growing heat as the flux of crowd increased as the tuna auction ended. "Did you sleep all right last night?" She bit her lip, and pushed on with her inquiry as he looked to her, her feet swinging slowly back and forth slightly in growing nervousness. "I mean, there's only so much room on the couch, and he takes up a lot of room."

He almost rolled his eyes. "I slept passably well, and yes, he does take up a lot of room."

She thought a little more about it, until Grimmjow's catlike qualities made her nearly giggle, but she clamped a hand over her mouth before she said aloud the thought crossing her mind. _It was silly to think cats would purr in their sleep, anyway,_ she thought.

"How long will it take to paint his ... place?" he asked, watching her swing her legs beneath the bench seat.

"A few hours." She stilled her feet and looked around the market stalls and tables to find a clock. "We should start soon if we're going to finish before he has to leave -- well, come back, I guess -- for work this afternoon." She found a clock over a scale stand that read eight-thirty. "It's so humid already this morning it'll take the paint a long time to dry."

He nodded, glancing back to where he'd last seen the man with the blue hat disappear into one of the side rooms. "Do you want to walk around some?"

She nodded.

They didn't go far, just circulating within the immediate vicinity so Ulquiorra could watch for the man Grimmjow had indicated earlier. The tables and stalls around them were devoted to cut flowers, a few offering houseplants in pots and arrangements. They moved among them with the other shoppers, some of the children pausing at the sight of Ulquiorra to point and whisper, and a few even outright stopping in front of him with questioning stares.

He stared back at a small boy of no more than four years, whose attention was fixated on him at nearly point-blank range.

"Are you crying?" the boy wanted to know.

Ulquiorra frowned slightly at him. "No."

"Are you sad?" the boy asked.

"No," Ulquiorra said as Orihime's hand took his arm.

The boy was about to ask another question when his mother grabbed his collar and yanked him along with her, but not before giving Ulquiorra a curious look of her own.

"Don't let it bother you," Orihime said, cupping her hand under his elbow below the short sleeve of the shirt she hand picked out for him the day before. "He's just young."

"It doesn't bother me," he said, unsure what he was supposed to do in response to her tugging except follow her lead to another table of plants.

"Good." She smiled, and then slipped her hand from his arm when she realized her clutch. She immediately reached for a plant on the table, grasping for something to say. She found herself reaching for a cactus. "Grimmjow didn't want a pet for his new place. I think he should get one, for companionship. Maybe a plant instead." She chose a small cactus with three pads on its trunk, carefully avoiding the spines.

He frowned at the plant. "Companionship is that important to you ..." He almost said _humans_, but since he was now among the Living to stay, he couldn't very well differentiate them from himself. "Is it really that important?"

"Companionship?" she asked, looking up to him as he studied the plant. "Oh, yes. Very important."

He watched her cautiously turn the plant to look at it from all angles. "It must have been hard on you to be alone in your room at Hueco Mundo."

"Oh, not so much. Not as hard as actually leaving," she said, thinking through her next thought before speaking this time. "It was difficult, yes, but people can live on memories, too, Ulquiorra."

"Not for long."

Something in his tone made her realize he knew what he was talking about. She looked away from the somberness in his eyes, nodding slightly. "That's true."

After a long moment he spoke again. "What is that?"

"A cactus." She held it up for him to see better, reading easily his disinterest in the plant. "Now this he wouldn't have to water very often."

"He'd forget."

She nodded. "He probably would." She looked at the other plants on the table as she set the cactus among the others. "There," she said, cautiously leaning over the prickly plants of various heights to another section of potted foliage. She couldn't quite reach the Venus Flytrap. "Now that would be better," she said, retracting her hand and walking around the table to collect the green plant with an open, pink trap. "A Venus Flytrap."

He followed her and gave the plant a scrutinizing stare, the spiny teeth-like prongs open, waiting. "It looks ominous."

"It is," she said dramatically as he frowned at the plant. "It's waiting on something to come along and land on the pink parts so it can clamp closed and eat it." She snapped her fingers, making him look to her quickly. She smiled. "That's how it eats. Flies and stuff."

"That's a plant?"

She nodded. "That way if Grimmjow forgot to feed it, it could take care of itself. He'd still have to water it, though," she said.

"He'd forget about it," he said, curiosity piqued in the plant.

She nodded, sighing, looking around for the clock again.

He watched her consider the time, and then return her attention to the choice of plants at another table. Much as he disliked suggesting his next idea, it was a means to an end. Orihime was one to keep her promises, he knew firsthand.

"I can wait to talk to the man about work by myself, Orihime," he said reluctantly as she moved along the table to another section of plants. "You can go ahead and get started with your painting. If you want to."

"Oh, oh, no," she said, smiling quickly. "We have time yet." She looked to the closed door where the man with the blue hat had disappeared into over two hours ago. "Maybe he'll be out soon."

Ulquiorra shook his head, taking her hand and placing the bag handle in it. "I'd rather you stay, but if you promised, you promised. Even if it is Grimmjow," he added. "If you trust him, alone."

She made a weak smile. "We've been alone for four days now."

A rare twinge of spite usually reserved for his Espada days flicked through him as he estimated her smile. "If you don't trust him, Orihime, don't go."

"Oh, it's not that," she said, almost meaning it. "But we should get started on the painting."

He frowned as her hand closed firmly around the bag's handle, taking the weight of it.

She nodded. "Yes. Well, do you think you can find his place on your own? It's not too far, but there are a lot of twisty alleys, and --"

He was already shaking his head. "I know how to follow directions. If you tell me where it is, I can find it."

She nodded.

* * *

Grimmjow had his work cut out for him as the newest tenant at the Golden Blossom Guest Houses that bright hot morning. After the brief preliminaries of a monthly lease agreement, the tentative rules established for occupying said dwelling, and more money exchanged with the landlord, Grimmjow was given the key to his new bachelor pad

The third level apartment was still housing the smelly boxes and ripped shower curtain, neither of which were in any better shape than they were a few days previous. He set about ridding the place of what he didn't want, putting the boxes on the narrow walkway that ran along the exterior above the courtyard at the entrance, overlooked by the fourth and final floor apartment balconies and walkway above.

As the morning passed and the small apartment was emptied of most of its contents, Grimmjow's mind worked along other avenues than what he wrapped his hands around.

_Damn Ulquiorra_ predominated most of his thoughts, punctuated with an occasional string from the words he'd left on Orihime's fish notepad.

The hours sifted by, his sour mood growing more so as the passing day cut into his attitude, a certain auburn-haired girl's absence only proving what he'd been telling himself for the last thirty-six hours. He almost wished he had more or heavier boxes to throw out.

But then there was a slight commotion heard outside the door at the landing that Grimmjow knew announced Orihime's arrival.

He opened the door to find her standing on the stairwalk landing, carrying the shopping bag in one hand, her other arm wrapped around some potted plant thing, her face lifted to see the leering, grinning neighbor from the fourth floor above who was looking down at her from his balcony, angling his neck for a better look at her cleavage amid the plant fronds that hid her chest.

"... friend moving in today," she said, her ponytail trailing down the back of her mild yellow tank top to the waistband of her pink shorts as she looked up at the twenty-something guy above. She looked to Grimmjow as he snatched the door open. "He's home," she said to the man above her again. "Thanks anyway."

Grimmjow jerked her in by her elbow and stepped out onto the landing to get a better look at the neighbor, who immediately slunk back into his own apartment. Grimmjow closed the door and looked to Orihime standing a few steps inside the apartment. "Don't talk to him. Or anyone here. Why the hell are you here alone? This isn't the place for a female to be walking around alone. Don't you know better? Where's Ulquiorra?"

She frowned at his quick fire questionnaire as she set down the shopping bag. "Ulquiorra's still waiting to speak with that man at the market about work, so I came ahead on my own so we'd have enough time to paint." She held the ferny plant in the cobalt blue pot out to him. "I didn't get lost. Here. It's a house-warming gift."

He took the nearly weightless pot, the dry leafy green plant frills spilling over the sides. "A gift?"

"Yes. A welcome-to-your-new-place gift." She smiled hopefully as he turned the pot, frown decreasing some as he looked the plant over thoroughly. "It's an air fern, so you don't have to water it."

His sharp stare went to her. "At all?"

"Not at all." She reached both hands behind her head to tighten her sagging ponytail, quickening her actions when she saw his eyes go to her chest. "Actually, it's not a plant. The lady at the stand said it's a collection of dried hydroids dyed green to resemble a fern." She realized how depressing the explanation was. "It's kind of already ... dehydrated, so don't water it." She'd meant to say _dead_, but giving a dead plant to a once-Espada had too many nuisances she didn't want to think about. "Just set it somewhere to decorate. You don't have to do anything for it."

It was supposed to be a selling point, but he gave her a pointed look.

Then it dissolved into something less caustic. "Thanks, Orihime." He looked around at the room, and then set it on the only place there was to set anything -- the kitchen area counter near the window.

She looked the room over, nodding at nothing in particular. "It looks better already."

He looked around. "It's empty."

She nodded. "You've got a lot done."

The only item actually left was the futon, which was pushed to the center of the room, occupying most of the floor space, with enough room to walk around it to the walls. The scraggly kitchen curtain was gone, as was the shower curtain to the bathroom, and the sun finding its way in through the kitchen added a lightness to the room.

He looked to Orihime, who was watching him. "Ulquiorra give you a hard time about skipping out on him?"

"No. It was actually his idea."

"Bullshit."

"It was," she insisted, nodding at the black t-shirt he wore. "Do you like buttonless shirts better?"

He looked down at it. "I guess."

She pushed her bangs out of her eyes in the growing warmth of the day. "Do you want to start painting now? It might take two coats, and we'll have to hurry to get them done before you have to work later."

He nodded, watching her slip off her sandals and slide them beneath the futon. She caught his stare.

"I don't want to get paint on them," she said by way of explanation, turning her back to him, arms crossing in front of her to either side of her shirt hem at her waist. "That's why I wore my paint shirt under --" She'd just grabbed two handfuls of the yellow tank top sides and began to pull them up when she realized she _hadn't_ worn her paint shirt underneath the yellow tank top. She dropped the thin material, blushing as she straightened the shirt excessively.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, eyes still on the shirt she was smoothing at her sides after a very brief glimpse of skin.

"Nothing." She took a deep breath and faced him, the blush still on her cheeks. "I meant to wear my paint shirt underneath, and I forgot to."

He grinned, chuckling. "You can paint in that shirt, can't you?"

She nodded, busying herself at looking around for the paint supplies. "I just ... just ... forgot."

Grimmjow knelt at the futon and pulled out the cans of paint, tray, and set of rollers and two brushes. "How the hell do these things work?"

It took twenty minutes to get set up to paint, and another ten minutes for Orihime to get herself into the bathroom, where she intended to paint, alone. All went well, until the bathroom was done too soon, the small room taking little time, as most of it was shower stall. She painted over the rougher, newly spackled and poorly sanded areas where the wall mirror had previously hung and finished the rest of the walls in little time.

She emerged fifteen minutes later with the first coat of Robin's Egg blue done, and only a little paint on her elbows.

Grimmjow was in the main room, rolling large sweeps of blue on the walls in every direction in wide strokes until the roller brush was out of paint and nearly dry. She didn't say anything about his half-scrubbing technique; after all, it _was_ working and it _was_ his place. She watched him paint the opposite wall near the door, his t-shirt only a little flecked with light blue paint splatters.

The room was already brighter with the fresh coat of paint, the smell of dankness camouflaged by the strong smell of paint, which was already starting to impact Orihime's head, and the change of color livening the apartment despite the colorful argument swelling from the neighbor's unit below.

Orihime made her way around the futon along one newly painted wall, eyes on the ceiling where the blue wall met the white ceiling overhead. "We can use the paintbrush to get the blue close to the ceiling. It'll be easier than using the roller." She glanced to where he was working at the wall. "Do you like the color?"

He nodded, eyes on his work. "Better than what it was."

"I think so, too." She put a hand to her head as an ache started across her forehead. "Want me to start on the edging at the floor?"

He glanced at her, roller in his hand still sweeping across the wall. "You don't have to do that. Sit down."

"I don't mind." She stepped among the roller tray of paint to the set of unused brushes.

Grimmjow paused painting to watch her sort through the bushes and choose one of the thinner ones to use for the edging where the wall met the floor. As she moved her ponytail fell to her shoulder, the tips of the very back strands touched with blue paint. He chuckled.

"You've got blue in your hair, Orihime."

She stood and straightened, fingers pulling her ponytail to where she could see it. She sighed. "Hmm, I guess I wasn't careful enough." She turned her head over her shoulder to see what she could of her back, but the movement was futile.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked as she turned slowly in a small circle, head over her shoulder in an attempt to see the back of her shirt.

"I thought I might have paint on my back."

He took a step closer to her around the futon as she looked to him. "Turn around."

She slowly pivoted her back to him, her choice of paintbrush still in her hand.

He moved her ponytail to one side, taking a moment to push every single strand of hair over her shoulder, checking thoroughly until Orihime decided he was taking altogether too much time.

She looked up at him.

"No paint," he said finally as she met his eyes. He turned back to his painting.

"Thanks."

For a few long moments neither said anything, each occupied with their own painting. The argument below finally blew itself out, replaced by music from a radio being turned up louder.

"When's he moving out?" Grimmjow asked suddenly.

Orihime had just knelt at the floor on the other side of the futon, hidden from his view, her careful brushstrokes covering the old paint near the floor at the wall. "Ulquiorra? We haven't talked about it yet."

"Why not?"

She frowned, the angle of leaning over the floor making her headache worsen with the paint fumes. "Well, I guess ... we will tonight."

Grimmjow muted the growl he wanted to roar. "Five days should be sufficient."

She sighed, sitting back on her knees, not looking at him over the futon as she dipped the brush into the can of paint nearby. "You should get a pet."

When he didn't say anything, she finished dabbing off the excess paint on the can edge and leaned over the wall again. "Does the landlord allow pets here?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "Oh? You asked?"

There was a slight pause. "It came up when we were talking about the lease."

She nodded, making careful strokes with the brush near the floor, watching the blue cover the pitted surface of the wall. "How about a kitten? Maybe that orange tabby from the pet shop."

"It would just get lost," he said.

"It would find you," she said, holding her breath as the brush touched up the trim near the floor. "Kittens are like that. You'd just have to sit down somewhere and it would find you, Grimmjow."

"... Maybe."

She smiled, nodding. "That would be..." she thought about the word, and then said it anyway, "nice." Maybe it was the headache talking.

He stepped around the futon and leaned over to draw the paint roller brush along the tray's shallow end of paint, watching her bend over her legs to meticulously paint the wall where it met the wooden floor. "Ulquiorra really suggested you should leave the market early?"

She nodded, intent on her work, one hand holding her ponytail to her neck to keep it off the floor. "Yup. He said a promise was a promise." She didn't add the rest of Ulquiorra's phrasing.

Grimmjow turned back to his own work, the paint roller leaving a wide path of blue over the dulled wall surface. "Don't let him fool you, Orihime. He hasn't changed any. He's still as much Espada as I am."

She frowned at the wall. "You're both human now."

"Only in form."

She sighed. _He certainly is going to fight the change as long as possible,_ she thought, dabbing the brush bristles at the chipped surface near the floor. "The rest will come along, eventually, Grimmjow," she said gently, glad that the futon was between them. She didn't look at him, but could feel the shadow of his stare from the opposite wall. She still didn't look at him. "It won't be so bad."

"What the hell is so good about being fully human? Tell me that."

She sat back on her legs as the headache got the better of her. "Arrancars miss out on the good things that separate them from the Living. I know you think it's just a heart, a weakness, but it's necessary to the Living. Not only the physical aspects; the emotional ones, too."

"You think all that talk about hearts and shit affected Ulquiorra?"

This time his voice was nearer and she looked up to see him at the end of the futon. "I think it did, yes."

He shook his head at her faith in herself. "You're fooling yourself, girl. He didn't get to be Fourth by having a heart." He turned back to the tray and rolled the brush through the paint.

"I think he developed some qualities of a heart," she said, frowning, intent on her belief as she leaned forward to dip the brush into the can of paint.

"You want to believe he did. You want so much to believe you had the ability to persuade him," he said, turning from the wall, the roller in his hand as he watched her sit back and resume painting along the floor. "Aizen gave him orders, and Ulquiorra followed them. That was it. Whatever it took to make carrying out those orders easier, Ulquiorra did. That's it. That's all."

"Is that what you did?" Orihime's hand froze around the paintbrush handle, her ears unbelieving the noose her tongue was tying. "What I meant, Grimmjow, was did --"

"I know what the hell you meant," he growled, eyes narrowing on her when she chanced to sit straighter to peek at him over the futon back. "Damn right. We all did. The difference is that some of us did as little as possible, while others couldn't get enough of trying to please him. It didn't matter in the end anyway how we went about what we did."

She sighed, breathing easier that whatever anger he had wasn't focused on her. She touched the paint at the wall's bottom and then scooted along on her knees to the next section. "It mattered. How you went about it, it mattered."

She looked up as he rounded the futon to load the roller with paint at the tray. She wasn't sure what was in his face, not his usual scowl, something other than the low-key frustration at being among the Living.

"What the hell do you know about any of it?" he said, running the roller along the tray's dimpled shallow end, eyes on the blue paint at the fingertips of her free hand.

"You were fairer than a lot of the others," she said, ready for the brunt of his amusement at either her silliness or ignorance.

Instead his hand paused on the roller's handle, frowning at her as he squatted across from the tray of paint. "If you're talking about that maggot Ichigo, yeah, I wanted a fair fight. Nothing wrong or weak about that, Orihime."

She nodded, putting her hand under the brush's bristles as the paint collected at the end, her eyes still on his harsh expression. "I don't think it was weak at all. That's what I was talking about." She waited until he stood up and went back to the wall that was half painted. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, debating to voice what she wanted to add. "You could've fought a wounded opponent. It would have been to your advantage."

"What the hell's all this about, Orihime?" he grumbled, making rapid swipes with the roller along the wall. "You didn't want to heal him, remember that part?"

"Yes." She put a hand to her head as the paint fumes inflamed the ache at her forehead. "I can't see Nnoitra wanting a fair fight."

"I am _nothing_ like Nnoitra."

"I know." She set the brush at the tray edge and stood up, her stomach unsettled from the smell of the paint. She stepped to the side of the tray and can of paint, her derrière bumping the futon back, making her step away, nearer to the wall than she thought, and realized too late there wasn't enough clearance.

Two roundish smears of blue rubbed onto her chest's highest spots, coloring the yellow tank top in baby moon patches of fresh paint. She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, her first impulse to put a hand to one side, which resulted in three fingerprints tracking from one side like a dotted trail.

She glanced quickly to Grimmjow, who had looked at her when she'd caught her breath. His eyes were locked on her shirt's new decorations, a grin starting across his face as a blush grew over her cheeks.

She turned around, her back to him, looking around for a paper towel, finding none.

"Damn, girl. You've got a new paint shirt now," he said with a chuckle.

"I, I ... uh, I didn't think it ... was..." She gave up on trying to say anything, eyes searching the kitchen's small counter for something to use. There was nothing. Not even a sponge. Just boxes of appliances.

"Turn around."

She shook her head, which only added to the blush on her cheeks until she felt like she was glowing red. Her arms paused before her, half ready to cross over her chest, but halting when she thought more about the paint on her fingers.

She went into the small kitchen, feeling every degree of the hot day, the headache burning through her forehead with the new embarrassment. The counter was void of anything to help, and she realized that they'd forgotten a few necessities of housekeeping.

"Here."

She looked to her side when Grimmjow's voice was too near, hovering at her shoulder as he looked over her ponytail to assess the damage. He held one of his button-up shirts before her, the teal one she'd picked out at the store.

She loosely crossed her arms before her, inadvertently wiping blue on the side of her shirt as she did, looking reluctantly to him.

"I don't want to get paint on your new --"

"Take it, dammit. Just put it on." He held the shirt closer, his grin still there, but not as evil as she'd imagined it would be.

She freed one hand to move a few fingers to the shirt, but he stuffed the material into her palm until she took it.

She nodded and turned her back to him, deciding the small bathroom -- curtainless, doorless bathroom engulfed in paint fumes -- offered about as much privacy as the main room. She slipped into the shirt, the long sleeves hanging over her hands by a foot or more. She spent several moments rolling up the cuffs to her elbows, still feeling him watching from behind her.

"I'd think you'd be used to clearing those by now," he said, the grin evident in his voice.

_So much for the brief slack in unwelcome comments_, she thought. Her head hurt too much to think of a comeback. "I should be," she heard herself say, wincing at the words. She gathered the shirt ends that hung past her shorts and tied them at her waist, taking a moment to fasten a few of the buttons at her chest so the blue splotches on her shirt were hidden. She turned around, bracing herself for his remarks.

He nodded. "Better, I guess."

"Thanks for letting me use the shirt."

"Can't have that bat ogling you all the way home," he said as she eased past him to the futon.

She nodded slightly, but not in agreement, the heat of the day concentrating her headache. She looked to the door that faced north, thinking that the balcony over the walkway would offer some shade. "I need to get some air. I think the paint fumes are getting to me."

He leaned closer to her face, scowl snapping back into place as she shied away. "Are you ill?"

"No, just too much," she gestured to the paint can and tray of blue, "paint smell. That's all."

The change of air outside, slightly cooler in the overhang of the balcony above, was welcome to Orihime as she leaned against the faded paint siding of the building. Grimmjow moved a few of the boxes farther away on the landing, eyeing her as she pressed her back to the wall, deciding that the enormous shirt on her small frame hid the paint on her tank top all too well. He glanced up to see the neighbor guy looking down, trying to see between the metal grate of the balcony walkway over Orihime in hopes of a better glimpse between the collars of the shirt she'd tied in front of her chest.

Grimmjow glared at him. "You should move out," he said lowly.

The neighbor slipped back into his apartment and shut the door.

Orihime closed her eyes for a long moment, hands to either side of her against the wall as a dizzy spell passed over her, the heat of the day adding to the uncirculating air of the apartment.

Grimmjow watched her, the few strands of blue-tipped hair on her shoulder nearly matching the shirt, both bare feet together before her as she inhaled deeply the late morning sunny air. He'd finished his study of her and was still looking at her pink toenails when she opened her eyes and looked at him. On impulse her toes curled, making his gaze flick to her face.

"Any better?"

She nodded a little, the motion making her headache worsen. "The paint smell doesn't bother you?"

His attention had darted to the street below at a movement, his view broken by a rope of laundry strung across the alley. "Damn him," he mumbled.

She pushed off from the wall and stood nearer to him to see Ulquiorra spotting them from the street below. He looked from her to Grimmjow, and then found the staircase at the first floor apartment below.

Orihime turned and leaned her back against the rail of the walkway, focusing on Grimmjow watching her. She looked back in through the open door of the apartment that was almost completely finished in new blue paint, giving the place a much-needed lift.

"Maybe you shouldn't stay here tonight," she said, nearly regretting the words as soon as they were past her lips. She was quite certain of her mistake as a quick grin crossed his face.

Then the scowl was back again as he took a step closer. "Ulquiorra say something rude to you?"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head until it hurt. "I was just thinking about the smell of the paint, and how -- after the apartment's been closed up while you work for the afternoon and evening, and in the heat -- well, it's going to smell a lot worse, and sleeping in those kind of fumes could make you ill."

He nodded slowly, watching her speak, not really looking to fault her logic or pick an argument with anything she said. He grinned wider, making her lean back to the rail more, arms crossing at her chest over the double layer of shirts as Ulquiorra reached them.

"I mean, if you come back after work and the fumes are too strong..." she added, feeling caught between what she considered a health issue and the prospect of having one less Espada for the night. "Unless it doesn't bother you."

He nodded, this time his expression not quite a grin or a scowl, something in between, more along the lines of...

... appealing?

_Good grief,_ she thought with chagrin, _the fumes and the heat are warping my brain_.

Ulquiorra had reached them, looking slightly miffed at his wait at the market, the walk, the heat, and the proximity of the couple before him, gaze falling over Orihime's attire before locking onto Grimmjow.

He frowned, looking back to her. "Why are you wearing his shirt?"

* * *

**_Happy Holidays, and thanks for reading and reviewing! _**

**_Poll is up!_**


	12. Second Coat

Ulquiorra wasn't happy with the explanation about Orihime's new attire addition that afternoon, but it was a better justification than the first one that had leapt to his mind. He gave Grimmjow a calculating stare as they followed Orihime into the apartment.

"Too much blue," was the first thing Ulquiorra could think of to say. "It smells foul."

"The paint smell will fade away, and it's a pretty blue," she said, smiling at the walls, her hands on her hips, Grimmjow's shirt opening wide over her chest until she realized the exposure. She dropped her arms, making both Ulquiorra and Grimmjow look from her back to the walls.

Ulquiorra shook his head at Grimmjow. "_Pretty_?"

Grimmjow grumbled something neither Ulquiorra nor Orihime heard. "Feeling better?" he asked her.

She nodded a little. "Some."

Ulquiorra stepped closer to her, green eyes intent on her face. Grimmjow noticed she didn't move away.

"Are you ill?" Ulquiorra asked her.

She pushed a few strands of hair away from her face, carefully, with the back of her hand to avoid her blue fingertips. "The smell of the paint made me sort of dizzy, but it's getting better now."

"You shouldn't be in here," he said, his hand reaching for her wrist. "Outside would be better. You're done painting anyway, so --"

Grimmjow's hand braced against Ulquiorra's shoulder, effectively breaking contact of the fingers grasping her wrist. "She said she's feeling better, so leave her alone."

Ulquiorra's hand closed around her wrist, this time as he leveled a pointed look at the taller Espada. "She's done painting, Grimmjow, so we should go home."

Orihime pulled her wrist free as Grimmjow's narrow glare sharpened on Ulquiorra, his hand grabbing the dark haired man's shirt in a bunch at the shoulder until the collar was askew.

"Uh, one coat might be enough, Grimmjow," she said, not liking the looks exchanged between the two as she placed one hand on Grimmjow's chest, pushing gently, trying to get him to unhand Ulquiorra. "What do you think? One coat of paint?"

He wasn't looking at the walls, instead his eyes on her fingers on his chest as she turned her gaze to the new paint job. Ulquiorra frowned at him. He threw off Grimmjow's hand, bringing Orihime's attention back to them.

"One's enough, Orihime," he said as a low growl came from Grimmjow.

She withdrew her hand and looked to each of them. "I suppose so." She tried to smile more.

"What are you so eager for?" Grimmjow bit out, leaning closer to Ulquiorra. "Keep your hands off her. She's capable of --"

"Is anyone hungry?" she asked quickly.

They both turned dour faces to her, Grimmjow's hands in fists at his sides.

"You should talk to him about finding his own place, Orihime," he stated more than suggested. "Start now, before he gets too comfortable at your place."

She looked to Ulquiorra, who was holding Grimmjow's stare with a frown of his own. "How did it go at the market?"

He nodded slightly. "I see another man about work tomorrow morning. I start then."

"Good." Grimmjow chuckled as the other Espada's scowl grew. "You can start looking for your own place, too."

Orihime frowned at each of them. "Do you want another coat of paint on the walls or not, Grimmjow?"

"He can do it himself," Ulquiorra said in a low tone as Grimmjow began to answer. "He knows the basics now."

She pushed her way between them and went into the kitchen. "Then I'll unpack this stuff." She took a moment to open the box with the toaster oven combo. "Oh, we didn't get you a bento box. You'll have to buy your dinner tonight, Grimmjow, and get groceries tomorrow."

He glanced away from Ulquiorra to her, watching her struggle with the box. He gave Ulquiorra a final growl and went to the counter and took the box from her. "Sit down. Are you sure you're not still dizzy?"

"No, not much. Oh, and a curtain, too," she said, nodding at the window over the sink as she leaned one hip to the counter and watched as he pulled the oven combo somewhat carefully from the box. She glanced to Ulquiorra as he came up to them, his curiosity on the appliance. "Do you know your hours yet? Oh, and what will you do there?"

He avoided looking at Grimmjow. "The man in charge of the area wasn't certain, but it appears I'll be assisting in the floral shops."

Grimmjow laughed outright at this, shaking his head at the frown Orihime gave him. "Told you he'd fit right in with the rest of the flowers."

"You never said anything like that," she chanced to say.

"I didn't?" He set the oven on the counter and rummaged through the accompanying paperwork and plastic wrap. "I meant to." He found the end of the cord to the oven and looked at the outlet in the wall that was only slightly edged with blue paint.

"You should read the directions first," she said, catching the end of the cord behind his hand as he prepared to jam it into the outlet. She forced a smile at his exasperated look to her. "Just a precaution."

"Let him plug it in," Ulquiorra suggested, eyes on Grimmjow's suddenly leery expression. "He knows what he's doing."

Grimmjow set the cord on the counter, ignoring Ulquiorra and his remark as he looked around at the other appliances. "Just show me how they work, Orihime. I'll read about all this shit later."

"She needs to get out of this place," Ulquiorra said, his hand closing around her elbow, this time more tightly than before. "If you'd think beyond your own selfish needs for once, Grimmjow, you'd see she's still not feeling well."

Grimmjow glanced from Ulquiorra's hand to Orihime, and then shoved the oven to the wall. "Tomorrow you're still coming to the grocery store with me."

She nodded, stepping back as Ulquiorra pulled at her arm. "We'll get everything else you need." She looked down at the hand on her elbow, then to Ulquiorra. "I'm not that dizzy anymore. Most of it's passed."

"Let her go," Grimmjow said to him, teeth beginning to clench.

Ulquiorra's hand loosened and slid to hers in a slight hold. Grimmjow bristled.

Orihime followed his lead to the open door, pausing there to look back to Grimmjow still simmering at the counter. "If the fumes are too bad tonight," she said, nodding to him, "come by."

He nodded, and then followed them to the open doorway, noting her hand slip from Ulquiorra's as she put both hands on the staircase railways.

A little better.

* * *

The conversation on the way home was devoted to what Ulquiorra had learned of his new job. The hours weren't as haphazard as lumping, but neither were they as steady, and from what he was told, involved delivering flowers and plants to shops and vendors in several business neighborhoods.

The gnawing feeling of leaving something undone, that maybe her kindergartener wasn't quite ready for his first day of school alone type of feeling, made Orihime less than ready to embrace the rest of the day with her new sole houseguest. It was an odd and unnecessary feeling, and she tried to shrug it off and focus on her new housemate.

It was the hottest part of the day, nearing onto four o'clock, as she and Ulquiorra returned to her apartment, the late afternoon sun having drenched the modest set of rooms for the past ten-plus hours since they'd been gone.

She immediately opened the windows wider to the outside wall, sighing. "He doesn't have a fan," she murmured, turning to see Ulquiorra's increasing frown as she moved to the refrigerator. "We didn't get a fan when he was getting household appliances."

His brow furrowed deeper as she found two bottles of Orange Crush in the refrigerator and then opened a cupboard over the counter for glasses. "Why are you so concerned about him, Orihime? He's able to take care of himself."

She nodded, setting two glasses on the counter and opening the sodas. "I know. But everything is so new yet. To him. There's a lot to learn about living in the, well, the Living World. It'll be new to you, too."

She handed him a glass of soda, frowning slightly at how odd his fingers looked minus the black nails.

He turned the glass in his hand, watching the bubbles fizz to the top. "I thought you wanted to be rid of him."

She nodded, sipping her drink.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again, the movement making her take a larger drink of the soda than she planned. She swallowed quickly.

"You know he'll be back tonight." His gaze fastened on her large brown eyes, gauging her guarded expression. "He probably won't even go back to his own place after he finishes working at the market. He'll come straight here."

"It wouldn't be good for him to sleep in the paint fumes." Her eyes dropped to his throat, the collar still slightly rumpled from Grimmjow's clutch. "It might not have bothered him, or you, as an Espada, but humans are frailer." She shook her head quickly as she realized the impact of her words. "Oh, I'm not saying either of you are frail now, Ulquiorra, but it's, well... it's not the same."

He nodded slightly.

She set the glass on the counter and reached behind her head to perk up her ponytail. "We kind of missed lunch, so I'll make dinner early."

She glanced down as his fingers lifted the edge of her ponytail hanging over her shoulder, carefully avoiding touching the overlarge shirt, she noticed.

His eyes shot to hers. "Blue?"

"Oh!" She giggled, smiling at the paint-tipped edges of the hair. "It kind of fell into the paint earlier." She pulled the strands of hair from his fingers. "I'll go take a quick shower and then we'll eat."

He nodded.

She left him in the kitchen contemplating his soda and went into her bedroom and then the bathroom, closing the door as the sounds of the shower running began.

Ulquiorra set the glass of soda on the counter and went to the small juncture where her bedroom met the living room area and bathroom. He listened to her humming from inside the small room, a bit of flush coming to his normally pale complexion as he realized the sounds of her undressing were just that, of the shower curtain being pulled a few times.

His attention went to her bedroom. It was quite unlike her room at Las Noches, the twin size bed decorated almost festively when contrasted to her sparse room where she'd been his captive.

_Not his captive,_ he thought again. _Aizen's captive._

There was a time he liked to think of her as his captive, but that was a time when she had to be _someone's_ possession, and he chose to think of her as his.

But that time was passed, and to think like that was far too like an Espada, something he was reluctant to relinquish, but also becoming ready to give up in light of other possibilities.

Those possibilities weren't without difficulties, the largest obstacle being a former contemporary. One, Ulquiorra had to admit, that had changed under the brief time he'd been in Orihime's company.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, eyes roving about her room from the doorway, frowning at the posters of pop idol music groups on the walls, an absurd collage of photos of her friends -- his ex-enemies -- on a corkboard near her dresser, a few ribbons of academic excellence hanging from the mirror over the piece of furniture.

His attention went back to the photos on the collage. Her and Tatsuki. Not too bad, he figured. She'd spoken of the girl to him at Las Noches.

Her and a very friendly-looking girl with glasses and hell-bent smile. He didn't recall her mentioning that one by name.

Her and who he knew to be Uryuu Ishida. He frowned at the dark-haired youth's evident happiness at being in the photo with Orihime as they stood outside an ice cream parlor. Ulquiorra wondered who took the picture. All he could see was a part of a thumb at an upper corner.

His frown grew steadily irritated at one of the smaller photos of her and most of her friends, including Ichigo Kurosaki, at a picnic on the beach. Everyone had smiles, Orihime's the largest, and happiest-looking, in Ulquiorra's opinion. He scowled at Ichigo's hand on her shoulder, a grin -- _a grin?_ -- on the substitute shinigami's face.

Ulquiorra fought off the urge to pluck the photo from the collage. He was already a foot into the room. Another few feet wouldn't matter. _But she'd notice,_ he thought. He stepped out of the room as the bathroom door opened, and he realized he hadn't even noticed when the shower water had stopped.

Orihime emerged from the bathroom, her hair tousled and still wet as she dried it with a towel, now wearing a clean mint green tank top and white shorts, minus Grimmjow's shirt. She looked from him to her bedroom, the surprise unmasked on her face.

"You don't have pictures of all of your friends on that," he said, pointing to the collage, the words out of his mouth before he'd thought them through. "There aren't any full shinigamis on it. I thought they were your friends, too."

"They are. Many of them are. These aren't all of my friends, Ulquiorra." She leaned closer into the doorway beside him to see the collage, and then sighed and nodded, waving him in as she went to the corkboard. "These are just some of my favorite photos. Shinigamis don't photograph without their gigais."

He stood beside her as she pointed to her and Uryuu. "That was when Ishida-kun won the strawberry ice-cream eating competition at a new ice cream shop that opened earlier this summer. He had a headache for two days." She pointed to her and Tatsuki. "Me and Tatsuki. No real reason; just a picture." Her finger moved to another. "My friend from school, Chizuru." She smiled as she indicated the group photo. "Our picnic last summer at the beach." She looked up to see his eyes going to each of the people in the photo. "Uh, you know some of them."

He nodded, his gaze searching each face intently. "You keep pictures of people you see every day? Why? You don't forget them so soon."

She shrugged, drying the side of her head with the towel, bringing the peachy smell of shampoo to the room. "Just for fun. Just ... to have them near me, I guess."

He nodded, watching her draw the pink towel down her hair, attention drifting from the photos to her small smile. "I see."

* * *

Dinner had been early, and welcome, as Ulquiorra's stomach began protesting the skipped meal, and Orihime was near on to famished. She spent the early evening making phone calls to hotels in the vicinity, still receiving the same answer to each as to vacancies as when she'd made the calls for Grimmjow. She had to admit she didn't call each and every hotel.

She told herself it was because the answer would be the same. Anime convention. What was the point of calling when she knew everything was booked solid?

They settled at the couch, the TV on low as she waited for one of her favorite non-Johnny Depp movies to start, realizing she found no real need to sit on the center cushion, except out of habit from the night before. Ulquiorra saw it differently.

The lamplight was turned to low, a bowl of frosted animal crackers on the couch between them as he looked to the space beyond Orihime, what he deemed to be Grimmjow's spot. He liked that the pillow was gone, back safely in her room, on her bed, where it should be.

In his opinion.

The pillow she'd lent him was on the couch arm near the lamp table. He liked that she was more comfortable -- also in his opinion -- without the Sexta around, in her pajamas with him, he in his sweat pants and a shirt.

But he could see the watchfulness in her, too. He couldn't exactly call it expectancy, but it was more than just passing the time as the clock neared on ten p.m. Besides, he knew she'd left the outside hall light on by her apartment door.

"You're waiting on him," he said after arguing with himself over saying it.

Orihime glanced to him as she was getting ready to bite the head off a frosted cracker shaped like an elephant. "Waiting?"

"Grimmjow."

She blinked, eyes going to the door before sheepishly returning to the TV where a commercial was playing for _The Wizard of Oz_. "He might be by."

"He will be." He picked a tiger cracker out of the bowl. He frowned, and promptly snapped it in half before eating the head part.

"It's only one more night."

"He'll paint again tomorrow, and then you'll invite him back, Orihime."

She hadn't thought of that. It was likely true, on both counts. She smiled, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. "This is a classic American movie. About a girl who runs away from home and gets caught up in a storm, and then tries to get home with the help of a great and powerful wizard, and along the way she meets others who need help finding their own courage, heart, and brain, and how all along everything each of them needed was right inside themselves. It was all only a dream," she added as he gave her a doubtful look. "But it seemed real to her."

"She sounds like she doesn't know what she wants," he said, sorting through a few of the animal crackers to find a lion. He broke it in half and ate the head.

"I guess she didn't." She nodded.

For a while they watched in silence, Ulquiorra moderately surprised when the first color scene broke onto the screen, which Orihime explained to him was a big event way back when the movie had been first shown at a theater.

He nodded, his attention divided between the movie plot and the other thoughts turmoiling in his mind. He watched her put a hand over her mouth as she yawned, and then tied her robe tighter as it loosened with the movement.

"You don't have to wait up for him," he said.

She looked to him, shaking her head. "I'm not. Not really. But just in case ... in case. That's all."

He sighed shallowly, one hand pausing in the bowl between them as her fingers hovered at a frosted hippopotamus. "I'll let him in, if he comes by."

This time her look was knowing. "You would?" she asked, smiling slowly in the dim light. "Really?"

He shrugged, his attention going back to where her fingers toyed with the cracker, his own edging closer to the hippo. "If that's what you wanted."

She looked back to the movie, her hand taking the hippo as his fingers brushed it. She popped it into her mouth, munching. "I'll stay up."

They spent the first half of the movie finishing most of the crackers, except for the ones Ulquiorra considered wounded, hence broken, and were on to the second half of the trek through Oz when there was a knock at the door.

Ulquiorra frowned as Orihime nearly leaped off the couch. "I can answer that, if you want --"

"I've got it," she said, smoothing her robe and snugging the tie to her waist. She went to the door and put one hand on the knob, leaning closer. "Who is it?"

"It's me," Grimmjow's voice came, bringing a groan from Ulquiorra as he met Orihime there.

She opened the door a few inches to see him standing in the hall under the stark bright light, a package wrapped in white wax paper under one arm, his pillow bulging with something rolled in the case in the other hand.

"You left the light on," he said, grinning. She smiled back, surprising them both.

"Come in."

Ulquiorra's gaze sharpened on Grimmjow as he entered the apartment, his frown growing when Orihime shut the door and locked it. "You know he didn't even try to go to his own place."

"The hell I didn't," Grimmjow snapped, pushing the white paper bundle to Orihime. "It smells like paint there."

She held the large paper package in both arms, sniffing at the smell coming from it, or him. "You did go back?"

For a moment Grimmjow looked between her and Ulquiorra, and then shrugged. "I painted the second coat after you left, so I know it smells like paint."

"Oh, well, that makes sense," she said, heaving the package higher. "What is this?"

"Fish. Yellow fin tuna," he said, nodding. "For you."

"Oh..." Her eyes opened wider as she looked at it with new interest.

Ulquiorra frowned at him. "You gave her a bundle of fish? What kind of a gift is that?"

Orihime was smiling at the package as she took it to the kitchen counter, setting it precariously close to Ulquiorra's mask. "How do you want it cooked?"

Grimmjow looked to her before sending Ulquiorra a belittling glare. "However you want it, Orihime. It's for you." He addressed Ulquiorra. "What's wrong with that? Its prime cut, highest grade, and fresher than anything she'd get in a shop."

In the kitchen Orihime was unwrapping the large chunk of tuna, smiling glibly. "Ooh, it's huge, Grimmjow. Are you hungry? I'll make tuna saté. Hmm, I only have chunky peanut butter, but I guess that's okay ..."

He grinned smugly at the Fourth Espada.

Who gave him a steady glare in return. "You smell bad."

"Shut the hell up." Grimmjow was already pulling off his black t-shirt that was still speckled with blue paint. "I'm taking a shower, if that's okay with you," he added as an afterthought to Orihime.

She nodded, still smiling at the fish. "Go ahead."

He nodded, pulling his pajama bottoms out of the pillow's case. "Be sure to make enough for Scissorhands here, too."

Ulquiorra frowned at the pajamas. "You came prepared." He looked to Orihime who was excitedly slipping the fifteen pound slab of tuna into the sink. His eyes shifted back to Grimmjow, determined to wipe the grin of superiority off his face.

"If you thought about it, Grimmjow," he said in a low tone so Orihime couldn't hear, "you should have waited to paint the second coat until tomorrow. Then the fumes would be too strong, again, and you'd have gotten another night here out of your paint job." One corner of his mouth twitched into something of a grin. "Too late now."

Grimmjow wadded his t-shirt into a ball, thinking it over, his attention settling on the girl at the sink who was standing on tiptoe to reach the cupboard overhead for a bowl, his focus on the tight calves of her legs. His grin turned to something more lethal as he considered his mistake, looking back to Ulquiorra. "Yeah? Maybe I'll paint a third coat, bat."

Ulquiorra shook his head, tempted to roll his eyes. "Scarecrow. You're a toss-up between that and the Tin Man."

Grimmjow frowned more, pointing a finger at him. "I'm going to find out what that means."

Ulquiorra made a low growl as Grimmjow stormed off to the shower, smiling, of all things.

He shook his head, watching Orihime at the sink as she relished in her new _gift_ for a few moments before he joined her there.

* * *

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**_Happy New Year!_**


	13. House Cleaning

Grimmjow awoke the next morning on Orihime's couch to Ulquiorra staring at him. He could feel it. For all the lacking qualities of being permanently human, he knew the weight of the Fourth Espada's stare when it was on him.

He grinned, opening his eyes in the early sun that streamed in through the apartment window. "Got a problem?"

Ulquiorra stared steadily at him from the other side of the couch, already dressed for the day in gray pants and a white cotton shirt. "You can't manipulate your way back here every night, Grimmjow. You have to leave, for good."

Grimmjow stretched his legs out across the floor, glancing to Orihime's closed door near the bathroom. "She invited me."

The scowl creased harder across Ulquiorra's mouth. "She was being nice, and you're taking advantage of her."

Grimmjow sat straighter, one hand angling a pointy finger at him. "I am _not_ taking advantage of her, Ulquiorra," he growled, irritation piqued. "I have taken advantage of her in no way since I got here. I abided by her damn rule _and_ stayed out of her room. Cramping your style, am I?" He smiled lethally. "But you don't really have any style, do you? Just pitiable, sad --"

He left off as the bedroom door opened, both he and Ulquiorra looking to Orihime as she stepped out of the room. She smiled, this time more genuinely at her houseguests, hands smoothing her tangerine shorts and white tank top as she met them at the lamp stand.

"Good morning," she said, looking to each.

"'Morning," Grimmjow said.

"Good morning, Orihime," Ulquiorra said, standing. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes, I did," she said, smiling brighter. "Did you?"

"Yes, thank you."

Grimmjow stood up, stuffing his pillow deeper into the couch arm side. "When's he getting out of here, Orihime? When're you booting him out? You gave me five days; should be plenty long enough for him."

Ulquiorra turned on him, the baggage of human emotions starting to catch up with him. "You haven't _left_ yet, Grimmjow. You keep coming back."

Grimmjow shrugged.

Orihime looked to him, nodding. "I think I've got some of your clothes here still," she said, looking sheepishly to Ulquiorra as his attention went to her. "Uh, in the laundry." She tightened her ponytail at the back of her head as she went to the small washing machine and dryer unit at the kitchen near the refrigerator.

Grimmjow followed, elbowing past Ulquiorra, who refused to be moved.

Orihime opened the dryer door and pulled out an armful of clothing, smiling until she realized some of the items were of mixed company. She turned, finding Grimmjow crowding her. "Oh... sorry, I guess they got washed with ... together." She separated them as best she could while they were still bundled in her arms, picking out a blue pair of boxers, handing them by two nervous fingers to Grimmjow as she kept her eyes on the rest of the laundry. "Yours. I think."

He took the boxers, grinning as Ulquiorra's frown furrowed deeper. "Any more?"

"Uh... no, I don't ... Oh, here," she handed him another pair and a shirt. "I couldn't get the paint out."

He nodded at the teal shirt she'd worn the day before. "Keep it." His eyes were on the pastel blue panties her fingers were curling into a ball. "Yours?"

"... yes." She stuck them under her arm and sorted through the rest of the clothes. "Here, your other shirt."

He took the gray shirt, leaving her to manage the teal shirt and her other clothing, until he snatched an unrecognizable pair of striped gray boxers and held them up to her. "These?"

"Uh, those are his," she said, plucking the shorts from him and handing them to Ulquiorra. "I can fold them, if you like."

"Don't fold his underwear, Orihime. Damn, he's a man, he can do it himself," Grimmjow said, leaning closer to see what other unmentionables she had wedged among the few tank tops and shorts.

"I think the rest are just regular... clothes. My clothes," she said, giving him a frown and turning the bundle away from his view as he caught sight of a very full-cupped heather blue bra. "I'll sort them out later. I think you've got all of your stuff."

She slipped past him and went to her bedroom with the clothing. She reappeared a moment later with another pair of blue boxers, handing them to Grimmjow as she tried to stifle a blush. "One more."

"Thanks."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "Are we done with the laundry exchanges?"

She nodded, passing both of them to find the rice cooker in a lower cupboard. "Is rice okay for breakfast? We have leftover tuna we can add to it."

Ulquiorra's stomach flipped a little as she said it, the peanutty sauce laced with fish paste and chilies still with him from the night before. But all that was forgotten when Orihime's tangerine-shorted derrière presented itself to him and Grimmjow as she bent to find the rice cooker in the bottom cupboard.

Before he could fully appreciate the glimpse she stood and turned with the cooker, smiling at them as she set it on the counter and plugged it into the wall electrical outlet. He and Grimmjow stepped closer to her as she found a measuring cup and rice in an upper cupboard.

She looked to either of them. "Rice is easy to make, especially with a cooker," she said, nodding. "Just add rice and water and wait. Then you can top it with whatever you like."

Grimmjow reached over her head, his elbow bobbing her ponytail as he found a package of ramen soup. "This," he said, showing it to her, "it just needs hot water?"

She nodded, smiling, stepping back at his nearness, as he was still in his pajama bottoms, only to bump into Ulquiorra looking into the rice cooker bowl. Her smile dimmed slightly as she looked at the package in Grimmjow's hands. "It's just a base, really, Grimmjow. You can add lots of other things to it. I'll show you how."

"Orihime," Ulquiorra said, his eyes on Grimmjow's grin before going to her, "you've shown him enough. We need your help, and you've been kind enough to give it, but we'll learn to take care of ourselves," he said, smiling a bit. "We've been enough trouble. You won't have to worry about me leaving," he added in a thicker tone, looking to the scowl now claiming Grimmjow. "I will, and so will he."

Orihime's hands stilled as she poured the rice into the cooker, blinking slowly as he spoke, unsure why the words sent a twinge of isolation through her. "Oh... well, yes, I know you'll leave," she said softly, looking from him to Grimmjow and back again, eyes resting on Ulquiorra's soulful expression. "I know. I guess I kind of... kind of..."

Neither Espada realized they'd leaned so close to her as her voice faded out, her head bent over the cooker as she sighed and dumped in the measuring cup of water. She stirred the water and rice with the wooden paddle, frowning into the cooker's bowl of contents, before straightening, her head smacking Grimmjow's chin with a mask-cracking wham that rattled his teeth and made him growl a grunt.

"Damn, girl," he said, rubbing his chin, standing back a little, eyes shooting to Ulquiorra, who was smiling more than ever, which still wasn't very much. "You'd think all that hair would've padded it some."

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to him, setting the paddle on the counter.

"That's what you get for crowding her," Ulquiorra said, chuckling a little.

"I didn't mean to," Orihime said, fingers settling lightly on Grimmjow's chin near his hand before she quickly retracted them. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, turning back to the cooker as the pink blush touched her cheeks.

Ulquiorra frowned at him. Grimmjow rubbed his chin, grinning a little more before cautiously looking over her shoulder to see the cooker better.

She turned, half in the semi circle of their proximity, leaning her back to the counter. "It's going to be about fifteen minutes," she said, shying slightly at the nearness of Grimmjow's bare chest to her eyelevel. She cleared her throat, averting her eyes to Ulquiorra's grim look. "Let's make a list for the grocery store shopping," she said, glancing back to Grimmjow. "So we know what to get."

Ulquiorra nodded, his gaze on Grimmjow. "Get dressed."

* * *

The fish market traffic was winding down for the hot day as Orihime, Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow found their way through the thinning crowds to the section of flower shops and stalls. Ulquiorra had come fully prepared for a day of work, his _Fruits Basket_ bento box in hand, packed with delicacies only Orihime could pass off as food, and her carefully folded napkins that were supposed to be shaped like swans. Flattened swans.

After a twenty minute wait among the flower shops, during which Grimmjow had managed to either scare or insult several of the owners by merely staring at them, the man Ulquiorra was supposed to meet about work finally sent his assistant out to tell him to come back at three o'clock in the morning later that night for his first shift. A big deal, the assistant manager had emphasized as Ulquiorra -- and Orihime and Grimmjow -- listened in.

"Work with the decorator and caterer and do whatever they ask you to. Get it right, and no screw ups," the smartly dressed assistant had said before leaving.

Ulquiorra couldn't find the humor in his first assignment, so Grimmjow cleared it up for him as they left the market.

"Your first day of work is _flower arranging_ for a wedding?" Grimmjow howled in laughter that made the other pedestrians leaving the market in their company look to them. "Ha! You're a damn decorator? Hell, they know just where to put you here!"

Orihime gave him a stern look as they crossed the pavement with the other shoppers. "It's a nice job," she said in Ulquiorra's defense, the word not giving her pause this time. "A good job. He'll get to meet lots of different people, and learn more about life in the Living World."

"Flowers?" Grimmjow chuckled, sending Ulquiorra another deviant smile. "You'll blend right in with all the dandy decorators."

Ulquiorra refused to respond, instead looking down to where Orihime's fingers patted his arm as she smiled up at him.

"Three a.m. is early. Or late, if we stay up," she debated, unaware of Grimmjow's attention sharpening on her. "Well, we'll make sure you get a nap before that to -- yip!" Her sentence was cut off as Grimmjow's large hand took her elbow and hurried her along the parking lot.

"Come on. Let's find the damn groceries."

She skipped alongside his quickened steps, smiling at Ulquiorra as he kept pace. "A fan, too," she said, looking back to Grimmjow.

He nodded.

* * *

A fan was to be had at the small row of Tsukiji shops that popped up before Grimmjow's neighborhood started, and Orihime couldn't help but wonder at the legitimacy of some of the merchandise inside, but she said nothing. The row consisted of a small housewares store, which appeared normal enough, and a small resale boutique, a hair salon, and a more questionably-stocked electronics store. Despite its less than legal appearance, Orihime decided patronizing the establishment wouldn't make them criminals.

After Grimmjow picked out a fan for his new place they moved on to the housewares store, where Orihime chose a masculine design, she told him, of blue and green plates and bowl settings, and a curtain of white with blue edging for him to take home. A few handfuls of spoons and knives later, and they were again on their way through the sweltering streets to the Golden Blossom Guest Houses.

Grimmjow's apartment smelled only faintly of fresh paint as he opened the door and they went in. Music from two neighboring apartments invaded the small unit, and he immediately scowled as closing the door only muted the sounds.

Ulquiorra looked around. "It does look better," he admitted, estimating the sparse but larger appearance of the blue walled room.

"Oh, it looks a lot better," Orihime said, nodding. "And it smells better, too." She took a deep breath, eyes going to window over the sink. "Do you want to get it all dressed before we go grocery shopping, Grimmjow?"

They both looked to her, attention sweeping her shapely form before she returned their gazes.

She forced a smile to her face, making a mental note to choose her words more prudently. "I mean, we'll put the curtain up and get the futon ... fitted with the sheets and blanket before we go shopping for groceries."

Grimmjow shrugged. "I guess."

No one designated chores, but Ulquiorra found himself at the sink with the curtain and rod. He didn't ask how it worked, how it was to be assembled, and it took him a few minutes to realize the simplicity of the window dressing. He glanced around the small apartment.

It wasn't so bad, he told himself, small but they -- Orihime, actually -- had made it livable, and he knew Grimmjow would set straight any neighbor problems that might arise. Like the music.

At the small landing Orihime had followed Grimmjow outside where he had the futon cushion in a death grip over the side of the stairwalk balcony rail, smacking it forcefully against the side so that the whole staircase shook.

A faint cloud of dust wafted out over the street below. Orihime watched it descend as the cushion was slammed repeatedly. "It'll be better after we get the sheet cover set on it," she told him.

"Why haven't you tried to get rid of him yet?" he asked in between slams.

"I called yesterday, and there still aren't any hotel vacancies," she said, sighing in the day's heat that showed no sign of relenting as noon approached.

"You don't want him to leave."

She knew it was a question, but she didn't exactly answer. The balcony shook as the cushion crashed into the edge again. "I feel bad about throwing him out."

The next slam was the hardest yet. "Why? You didn't give a damn about tossing me out."

"You haven't left, not really, Grimmjow," she reminded, her tone low. She shrugged slowly, unsure why she felt compelled to clear the matter. "I kind of felt bad."

The slamming motion half paused in Grimmjow's hand as he looked to her with more interest, the impact weak against the rail. "You did?"

She hesitantly looked up at him, the underlying sincerity of the inquiry in his eyes making her nod. She sighed. "A little."

"Could have fooled me, Orihime," he said, resuming beating the cushion against the rail side as smaller amounts of dust were forced from it. "You acted scared shitless from the moment I walked through your door."

"I was scared ... a lot," she edited her response, although she meant the same thing. "By golly, Grimmjow, you're a scary ... a scary _person_, even if you're not an Espada anymore," she added against her better judgment.

He muttered something she didn't hear, and her eyes remained on the cushion hovering over the rail in his hands. She didn't look at him when the cushion-beating didn't commence.

His grip around the mattress tightened in one hand as the other released it, letting the heavy cushion fall into a lopsided dangle over the street. She looked from it to her shoulder as his fingers moved the auburn strands of ponytail that draped there, his touch gentle against her skin exposed at the tank top edge.

"You think that's all I am?" he asked, his tone too low to be heard inside the apartment over the music from the neighboring units. "An Espada?"

Her gaze went from his fingers pausing on her shoulder to his eyes, their steely blue as fierce as she'd ever seen them but this time tempered with something else, and for a moment her mind dismissed parts of what she knew about his past. She shook her head, eyes dropping back to his hand. "It was important to you."

"Damn right. Always will be." He looked to the soft skin beneath his fingertips, tracing slowly where the cut of the white tank top material met her skin.

A low snicker came from above them, making Grimmjow's hand tighten on her shoulder in a movement that was a second nature reaction, his eyes shooting to the neighbor guy on the upper stairwalk.

Orihime winced at the sudden hold, and he released her to reach up for the man leaning over the rail.

The neighbor only narrowly moved before Grimmjow's hand could close around his ankle.

"Get lost," Grimmjow growled at him.

"Hey, just looking, man," he said, backing away to his own apartment doorway. "Not many racks like that out here."

Grimmjow had one hand on the balcony baluster above him and was preparing to climb to the upper floor, a string of threats out his mouth as Orihime grabbed his arm to stop him. He glanced to her as she tugged tentatively on his sleeve. "He was looking down your shirt, Orihime."

"He's gone," she said, her hand slipping from his arm, immediately crossing her arms across her chest, refusing to look up at the crass attention, stepping back a foot as Grimmjow released the baluster, a flush on her cheeks as she looked to him.

He looked back to where the ponytail tresses had moved from her shoulder, a few thick strands of hair now splayed across her warm skin.

"I'm done."

They both looked to Ulquiorra standing in the open doorway, his scrutinizing study going to each of them.

Orihime looked to the futon cushion still in Grimmjow's clutch over the side of the balcony, then her eyes went to his, unable to sort through the conflict in their depths.

But she knew it made her breath catch, and that alone was enough to make her move.

She passed Ulquiorra in the doorway, giving him as much of a normal smile as she could muster.

"Oh, the curtain looks lovely against the blue walls," she called back to them. "And it's even and straight, Ulquiorra. Very nice."

Ulquiorra watched Grimmjow haul the cushion over the rail with a quick movement. He looked to the stairwalk above them. "You'll have to get rid of him."

Grimmjow nodded as Ulquiorra stepped aside to clear the doorway. "I know."

* * *

**_Thanks for reading and reviewing! Poll is up!_**


	14. Dances with Wolves

As much as Orihime wanted to stock Grimmjow's few cupboards with the essentials of bachelor culinary needs, she also wanted to make sure Ulquiorra had enough time for a nap before he was to leave for work that night. Grimmjow reluctantly agreed to their early departure that stiflingly hot afternoon, but only after they'd accompanied him for a quick run to the corner store for enough packaged dinners to get him through the evening and next day. And only after she'd given him a crash course in instant noodle-making, and a promise she'd go with him on a proper grocery trip the following morning.

Grimmjow stood at the stairwalk landing, returning her brief wave, watching them leave until they had disappeared out of sight in the twisting alleys of the rough neighborhood, contrasting thoughts at odds in him. He knew Orihime was safe among the winding side streets with Ulquiorra at her side, but he still didn't like that she was going back to her apartment with him. His mood wasn't helped when he turned to go back inside and saw his upstairs neighbor leaning over his stairwalk rail, also watching the departure, grinning and chuckling, several off-color comments mumbled under his breath about the girl's accoutrements and bouncy walk.

This time there was no one to stop Grimmjow when he grabbed the baluster and climbed over the fourth story stair landing with the agility from his Espada days, sending his bewildered, wiry neighbor stumbling toward the door behind him.

"Holy shit, man!" the guy yelled, fumbling for the doorknob as Grimmjow glared at him, advancing. "What the hell's your problem?"

Grimmjow shoved him into the apartment as the door opened with a jolt, sending a slam off the wall that echoed through the set of rooms. "I told you to shut the hell up about her!"

"Hey, man, it ain't my fault your princess is leaving with a clown," the guy said, backing up almost as quickly as Grimmjow was crossing the room. He tripped over a bunched up rug, nearly falling as Grimmjow's hand snapped out and grabbed his dirty t-shirt by the collar. "Get out! Get out, man!"

Grimmjow lifted him off his feet, bumping the man's limp hair off the ceiling, bringing a curse from him. "I told you once before to move out," he growled.

The guy managed a weak laugh, which was cut short when Grimmjow hoisted him higher and cracked his skull against the ceiling until plaster fell from several spots.

"Knock it off, man! Are you crazy?"

A gleam came to Grimmjow's eyes as he tossed him to the nearby couch, which broke at one end under the man's fall. "Yeah, I am. Now get the hell out of here!" With one stride he was towering over the guy trying to squirm away off the couch. "You clear out of here tonight," he said, catching him by the back of the t-shirt and yanking him to his feet, "by the time I get back from work, or I swear I'll throw your dead ass in the Bay. Got it, _neighbor_?"

The guy raised both hands before his face as Grimmjow spun him around, fist clutching in the front of his shirt again.

"You're serious?" he stuttered out.

"Damn serious."

Grimmjow dropped him, the man folding into an embarrassing crouch before him.

"I'll apologize to her," he suggested as Grimmjow glared at him. "I'll, I'll --"

"No, you'll move out." Grimmjow looked around the room. Much larger than his place, with a bedroom and a separate kitchen area further into the apartment from the main room. His sharp stare leveled on the cowering guy at his feet. "Be out by midnight tonight."

* * *

Orihime realized her summer break from school was fast filling with things she had not planned to do.

She and Ulquiorra headed back across Tokyo to the outskirts where Karakura Town dissolved from the metropolis, the day's heat making them both wilt. The giggle of teenage girls made Ulquiorra look to the sidewalk corner as they crossed a street the last few blocks to Orihime's apartment building. His steps slowed, his hand on her elbow retarding her walk as he looked to the store fronts for the sound. It took him a moment to discover from where the girls' laughter was coming.

He frowned at the photo booth that was painted in bright purples and pinks, loud squiggling kanji splashing fun messages across the curtain pulled over the opening. He looked to the three sets of sandaled feet visible inside beneath the half curtain closure.

"Photo booth," he read slowly as he stopped, bringing Orihime to a halt. "Photos?"

She nodded, smiling as she pointed at the purikura kiosk. "It's a picture club photo booth."

They watched as the three girls emerged from the interior of the booth, giggling and blushing as they exchanged photos among them. They moved off to join the rest of the drifting foot traffic on the sidewalk, chatting animatedly.

Orihime looked to Ulquiorra, smiling wider at his interest in the booth. "Do you want to get your picture taken, Ulquiorra?"

His eyes snapped to her, his frown deepening. "_My_ picture?"

She nodded, linking her hand under his arm and pulling him along as she went to the booth. "It'll be fun. My camera's broken, but this is almost as good." She tugged more on his arm as his steps lagged, her smile encouraging. "It's easy."

They stopped at the colorful booth and she whisked back the curtain, nodding to the small bench inside, shrugging at the nominal editing options at the console. "This isn't a very fancy one, but its okay. Go ahead and sit down, and I'll put the money in."

His eyes were on the small bench, shifting to the screen and console across from it. "I want your picture, too."

She smiled slowly, nodding. "Okay. We can get one of you, and then me, and ... do you want to get one together?" She added quickly, "I think there's enough room for us both in here. It fit those three girls, so there's room for us."

More of a smile came to his face.

They went in and settled at the bench, which proved to be just enough room, and Ulquiorra pulled the curtain shut. Inside the booth was an array of controls at the console, a small mirror to the side of the camera and screen. Orihime looked up at him, the confines of the booth made for no more than two people, a less than snug fit for her and the former Espada, but not uncomfortable. She smiled more at him, deciding he looked more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him.

"You don't have to smile," she said gently. "People make goofy faces, or silly smiles, but you don't have to smile. If you don't want to, Ulquiorra." She reached for the toggle on the console and watched the photo imaging-frame center on them on the screen, where they appeared to be mere silhouettes. "There aren't many options in this one, but we can get a regular picture." She aligned them on the screen as he watched, then turned to him. "Do you want to take your picture alone first?"

He shook his head. "I don't want my picture alone."

"Not at all?"

He shook his head again. "We can get two of both of us together?"

She nodded, smiling through a faint blush.

He reached into his pocket, his elbow angling into her tank top as he did. "I'm sorry," he murmured as she sat back at his movements, avoiding a less than invasive contact. He drew out a handful of coins. "Is this enough?"

"Oh, yes." She pointed to the coin slot and exposure choices. "We haven't discussed money yet, have we?"

He sorted through the change, keeping a handful of the larger coins as he slipped the rest into his pants pocket. "Not the metal ones." He held them to her. "Use enough to get two."

She nodded and picked out the coins. She dropped them into the coin slot, and then tapped the alignment toggle. "Go ahead."

"You do it, Orihime."

"Okay."

She adjusted the alignment slightly, and then pushed the few strands of hair to one side that had loosened from her ponytail, looking to the small mirror. She turned to look at him, one hand going to the black shock of bangs at his brow before halting. The serious nature of his stare made her pause, and then resume her thoughts.

"Can I move your hair? Just a little, Ulquiorra. To see your eyes better."

"Yes."

She carefully swept the black locks to one side, not severely, but enough to see him clearly, her eyes resting on the thin lines trailing from his eyes before going back to his gaze. "Ready?"

"I think so."

She nodded, turning to face the camera and screen. "You don't have to smile," she reminded, flicking the 'ready' button. A light glowed red at the top of screen, and then began to flash. "Five seconds. You can smile, if you want to."

"Okay."

The flashing light counted down the five seconds, and then turned a solid green just before the photo snapped. Orihime emitted a short squeal and eagerly reached for the console, choosing the preview options. On the screen flashed the image of them, she in a smile, he with an expression just short of shock.

She looked to him, finding a frown on his face as he studied the image. "You don't like it?"

"I look like I don't want to be in it," he said after a moment.

"We can do another one," she suggested.

He opened his hand to offer more coins.

She dropped the coins in the slot and they repeated the procedure. This time Ulquiorra managed to look more at ease, and she smiled at him at the improvement. "Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. "It's better."

"Good." She sat at the edge of the bench, nodding for him to move up with her as her fingers poised over the option controls. "We can make the background different. Do you want another color, or do you like the blue?"

He watched as she worked the background options, switching colors as she paused at a few. "What color do you like?"

She frowned at the oranges, yellows, greens, and blues shifting behind them on the screen. "I like the yellow, but it's up to you."

"The yellow."

She selected the yellow background.

"Can you alter anything else?"

She nodded, smiling, hoping to warm him to the idea of customizing his first photo. "We can add stars or bows to the background," she said, "or add a bubble and put words in it."

His eyes were on the screen. "Can you take out the lines on my face?"

Orihime's hand flinched on the console, her eyes darting to his, then dropping to the dark lines at his cheeks. "You want them erased?"

He looked from the screen to her. "Yes."

"Oh..." She looked over the controls for a moment, and chose another editing toggle. On screen a point removed the lines from Ulquiorra's face on the photo image. She frowned at it, quiet at his face that stared back at her, unsettled at the more _normal_ appearance it gave him. She looked slowly to him. "Do you like it?"

He was frowning more. "It looks more human."

She nodded slightly. "Do you like it, Ulquiorra?" she asked, her voice subdued as she watched him study the image.

For a moment longer his attention remained on the screen. "Do you?"

She watched his eyes flick from his image to hers on the screen, wondering what he was thinking. "... No."

He nodded, looking back to her. "Can you put them back on?"

Her finger tapped the undo button quickly, and his image on the screen resumed its normal appearance. She smiled. "Better."

He nodded, smiling more at her. "Make two."

* * *

The buildings that made up the Golden Blossom Guest Houses were quieter than usual by the time Grimmjow got off work that night shortly after ten o'clock. He made his way through the maze of alleys and staircases that eventually led around to his apartment, his attention on the light coming from the unit above his. With the bile already rising in what he assumed to be his stomach, he took the stairs to the next level.

From the open doorway of his neighbor's apartment he could see the shabbily dressed landlord, standing in the middle of the main room, hands on his hips, his worn and stained kimono making a tent around him as he shook his head at the empty room.

Empty it was, Grimmjow nodded with a grin. Not a curtain over either the front or back window, no furniture, no neighbor.

The landlord turned to see him. "Can you believe this loser? Just up and moved out without warning. Slipped the key under my door and beat it out of town. He owes me six weeks rent!"

Grimmjow had heard what he wanted, but spent another minute looking around at the off color white walls.

"You know anything about this?" the landlord asked, his shrewd look fixed on the Espada. He shook his head, estimating his newest tenant. "Doesn't matter if you do. He was always behind on his rent."

Grimmjow's gaze went to the bedroom further into the apartment, and then to the window at the sink in the kitchen. The whole place was more spacious than his was, the window wider, the walls taller. He swallowed down a growl. The neighbor's eviction hadn't provided him the satisfaction he thought it would.

He turned and left the landlord in the vacant apartment and returned to his own. It was just as he left it. Empty.

The neatly made futon was still unused, the pillow Orihime had fluffed still fluffed, the blue sheets still straight on the mattress. He flicked on the overhead light, and this time let the growl surface. The light only focused the emptiness more acutely.

He pulled off his shirt and headed for the small bathroom.

* * *

Despite Orihime's insistence at a nap, Ulquiorra slept only fitfully for a few hours that muggy afternoon after they ate a late lunch and then an early dinner. He awoke as evening settled in, and then sat on the couch in her apartment for an hour, watching her quietly skirt around the place as she tidied it, practically pantomiming her laundry duties in an attempt to be quiet while he slept, telling him in a whisper to go back to sleep when he did awake.

But he didn't want to sleep anymore. She made an effort at giving him privacy by making a phone call to Tatsuki from her bedroom, her voice quiet, but he still sat at the couch as she did, the picture of them from the photo booth in his hands. He'd already studied it for fifteen minutes straight before he realized she had returned to the kitchen, her movements silent in the low glow of the kitchen sink light as evening eked in from the dark window to the street.

He looked from her smiling face in the photo to his less than stoic one beside her in the dim main room, something he'd never seen before, their images next to each other. Of all her smiles, those timid and frail expressions she'd made nervously at him while in captivity in Hueco Mundo, none were like the one in the photo. Genuine, brilliant happiness. He could see it even in the poor lighting from the kitchen.

He looked to the greeting card on the lamp stand by the couch. It had been hanging by a piece of yarn from the doorknob when they returned from Grimmjow's place earlier that day.

"A get well card," she'd told him when she opened the envelope earlier at lunch. The card had a kitten waving _hello_ on the front, and the inside was a smattering of signatures, from Ichigo, Tatsuki, Uryuu, Chad, and Chizuru at the bottom with get well wishes. It only made her feel guiltier.

"_Get well soon. Sorry we missed seeing you this afternoon_," it had read in Tatsuki's spiky writing.

There had also been two non-signatures at the bottom of the card, caricatures of what looked to Ulquiorra like a sketchily drawn rabbit and a pineapple with eyes and a headband. Orihime had made a call to Tatsuki with heartfelt appreciation as she attempted to stay clear of the main room for Ulquiorra to get more sleep before his first shift at work that night.

He looked to her as she stepped hesitantly to the side of the couch. She nodded to the photo he held.

"We can get another one made, if you don't like that one," she offered.

He looked down at the picture that had become memorized in his mind. "This one is fine."

"Uh, maybe you could rest better in..." she shrugged as her smile was accompanied by a slight blush, "in my room. I mean, it'll be quieter."

His eyes had opened wider at the mention, but then he shook his head, watching her hands clasp tightly before her as her bare feet pressed together at her toes. "It's quiet enough out here. Thank you for the kindness, Orihime, but I'm not tired."

She nodded. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head, switching on the light at the lamp as the dark invaded the room too much to see her well.

Her eyes went to his hand, the frown edging at her lips. "Does it bother you, being human, Ulquiorra?"

He shook his head slowly. "It's different."

"I have an idea," she said, smiling at him as she skipped back to her room before he could speak. She returned with a small bottle of black nail polish and sat beside him with a giggle. "I know what we'll do," she said, reaching for his hand still holding the photo. She paused before touching it, rethinking her action. She looked up to find his eyes on her knee that was resting against his, but she didn't move it away, instead shifting to face him more on the couch.

"We'll paint your fingernails. They can be black, just like before."

He looked down at her hand extended to his, her fingers curled up in beckon. He set the photo to his other side on the couch, letting her take his nearest hand.

She smiled more, shaking the small bottle of nail polish, the tiny beads rattling inside as she let his hand lower in hers on her knee. "If you don't like it, we can take it right back off," she said, fingers moving his to angle his thumb towards her. "Can I show you how it will look?"

He nodded, still unsure what she meant to do.

She set his hand on her knee while she opened the bottle and dabbed out the small brush, setting the bottle on the lamp stand behind her, then took his fingers again to begin. The tip of the brush moved across his thumb nail, leaving a black trail of wet paint.

"Tatsuki and I painted our nails black for Talk-Like-a-Pirate Day one time, and I've still got lots of polish left," she said by way of explanation. "I know it's ... it's silly, but it was fun." She painted the entire nail, smiling at her work before looking to him. "A second coat will make it darker."

He looked at the thin layer of smoky black polish as she moved on to the next fingernail. "Like your toes?" He looked to her feet that were tucked by the couch side.

She nodded, finishing the second nail and dipping the brush into the bottle again before returning to the middle fingernail. "We'll make the first coat light, so it dries quickly." She drew the brush along the nail, her fingers holding his carefully just above his palm.

"A second coat of paint," he said, watching the top of her head as she nodded, her ponytail waving before him.

"Just like painting a wall." She looked up at him, smiling warmly at his look of uncertainty. "Well, maybe not exactly like a wall, Ulquiorra." She dipped the brush into the paint again, and finished the two fingernails on his hand, and then raised it to blow on the tips.

This time his hand nearly recoiled out of her hold, eyes sharpening on her.

Her fingers had tightened on his as she looked up. "It's just to help them dry faster." She lowered his hand to her knee, a blush touching her cheeks. "They'll dry on their own, too."

He watched as she tentatively touched his thumb nail with her finger, nodding as she deemed it dry enough to apply a second coat of polish.

"I didn't see any males at the market with painted fingernails," he said as the brush drew black across his nail. "Do males paint their nails, or just females, Orihime?"

She paused painting for a few seconds, and then finished the thumb nail. "Some men do. Not many. Celebrities and some teen boys." She looked up, her smile fading. "None I know." His hand began to retract from hers, and on instinct she clutched it tighter. "Some guys do, Ulquiorra."

"I don't want to do it if it's not human," he said, his effort at removing his hand from hers halting. "I'm not Arrancar anymore," he said with a sigh. "It's over. I'm not going to blend into your culture," he decided, seeing her eyes move to the dark marks on his face, "but it's past, and that's it." He looked to where his mask was still on the counter in the kitchen. "I should get rid of that, too."

She lowered his hand in hers to her knee. "Why? It won't hurt to keep it. You're not wearing it," she added gently.

He nodded noncommittally, looking back to his hand. "Will the paint come off?"

Her gaze dropped to his fingers over hers, his palm against her own. "You don't like it?"

"I like it, but it's not what I am anymore."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. If you want it taken off, I'll get the polish remover."

She released his hand and put the nail polish brush back into the bottle and tightened the lid as she stood up. "I wasn't trying to insult you, Ulquiorra," she said, biting her lip. "I wouldn't do that."

"I know." He did know it. He watched her fingers fidget on the bottle of polish. "I'd rather have them normal."

She nodded, and then went into the bathroom with the polish. He was still looking at his black fingernails, a few of which were still the fainter color of smoky black of one coat, when a knock came to the door.

He glanced at it, then to the clock on the wall reading eleven-thirty, and then to Orihime as she quickly crossed the room, the bottle of polish remover in her hand.

"You already know who it is," he said, standing and meeting her as she reached the door. "He'll keep coming back as long as you let him in, Orihime."

She frowned slightly, a wad of cotton balls in her other hand. "He's new here, Ulquiorra. It's his first night at his own place."

He shook his head. "He's not at his own place. He's here."

"Maybe he's just visiting," she said, tilting her head with an attempt at a smile. "That's okay."

He raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

"I, I don't mind that," she said slowly, thinking the idea over more. "Not so much."

He nodded as she opened the door. Grimmjow stared back at them from the hall. He looked from Orihime to Ulquiorra and back to her. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, allowing more of a smile. "Yes."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed on Grimmjow as he stepped past him. "You've got your own apartment, Grimmjow," he reminded needlessly. "Stop trying to make her feel guilty into letting you stay."

"I'm not staying," Grimmjow snapped at him, scowling suddenly. "I know where I live."

"Then why aren't you there?"

Orihime held her hands up as the Espadas stepped closer to each other. "It's okay. Grimmjow, are you hungry?"

"Of course he's hungry," Ulquiorra said before Grimmjow could answer. "He'll always be hungry when you ask him."

"Don't make anything for me," Grimmjow grumbled at Orihime as she stepped back. He glanced to the bottle in her hand. "What _are_ you making?"

She looked to the polish remover and then to Ulquiorra. "Oh, I wasn't cooking." She set the bottle on the lamp stand and went to the refrigerator. "I'll get you some soda."

Grimmjow glanced at Ulquiorra, and then took his usual spot on the couch, finding the remote control for the TV on the floor, before his eyes went to the picture on the cushion next to him.

Orihime was just reaching him when he recognized it, and she knew by the near-smile on Ulquiorra's face that something was amiss.

"What the hell's this?" Grimmjow nearly roared, making Orihime flinch, the soda nearly spilling as she handed the glass to him.

"It's a photo," Ulquiorra said levelly, sitting down at the other end of the couch. He reached for Orihime's arm as she gave the glass to Grimmjow. She sat beside him, inching away from the larger Espada as he scowled at the photo.

"From a photo booth," she added, her hand automatically going across Ulquiorra to the polish remover on the lamp stand. "We got it taken on the way home."

Grimmjow glared at the photo, preferring to look at her image rather than Ulquiorra's on the paper. His fingers gripped the photo tighter, until Ulquiorra reached across Orihime and took it from him.

"Don't wrinkle it."

Grimmjow let him have it, the list of banned words flashing through his throat until he saw Ulquiorra's hand in Orihime's grasp, a cotton ball in her fingers brushing across his black nails.

"What the hell are you doing?" Grimmjow grabbed her hand away from Ulquiorra in a blinding moment of emotion.

"It's just fingernail polish," she said quickly, shrinking a little from his outburst, pulling her hand back to Ulquiorra's.

Grimmjow's fingers left her wrist as she dabbed the cotton ball at the other Espada's fingers. He watched the black polish slowly come off the nails, irritation rising.

"See? It's not permanent," she said to Ulquiorra, conscious of Grimmjow still leaning close, at her shoulder as he glared at Ulquiorra.

"Back off, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said to him, his bare nails feeling especially bare. "You're lucky she let you in. You promised to leave."

"I am leaving," he said as Ulquiorra handed Orihime the bottle as she finished with the cotton balls. She recapped it quickly.

"When?" Ulquiorra wanted to know.

Grimmjow looked from him to Orihime, her expression neutral. He nodded to the lamp stand. "I want to see that picture again."

"It's mine," Ulquiorra said, his posture straightening as Grimmjow sat taller across from Orihime. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Bullshit. Hand it over." His long arm crossed over Orihime, only to be thrown off by Ulquiorra.

"I don't want it wrinkled," he said.

Orihime turned to Grimmjow. "It's his first photo, and he's --"

Grimmjow's hand snatched out for the photo, just as Orihime was pivoting on the couch to address Ulquiorra, and in a defensive movement that was supposed to block Grimmjow's efforts, his hand made contact with her forehead.

There would be some debate later as to what happened, but at the moment, Grimmjow didn't care. The _thunk_ off her forehead by Ulquiorra's hand resulted in a stunned moment of silence, followed by a snarl from Grimmjow that coincided with Ulquiorra's appalled apology.

"You _hit_ her, you damn bat!" Grimmjow bellowed as Orihime slunk back against the couch, not from the impact, but merely to get out of the crossfire.

She shook her head. "It's okay --"

"I'm sorry, Orihime," Ulquiorra said, leaning to her as she moved back, frowning when she looked to him, his eyes on the faint red spot blooming across her forehead.

Grimmjow's hand closed on the Fourth Espada's shirt collar even as Orihime placed a hand on his shoulder, and one on her forehead.

"It's okay," she said, giggling a little, pushing more on Grimmjow. "It didn't hurt. I have a hard head."

"Orihime, I'm very sorry," Ulquiorra said again, his fingers on the narrow strap of her shoulder as Grimmjow's fist tightened at his neck. "I didn't mean it."

"I know. It's all right." She tried to push harder against Grimmjow, which was the equivalent to shoving at a brick wall.

His hand went to her neck, turning her head until she was looking at him, his other hand releasing Ulquiorra's shirt to somewhat gently wipe back the auburn bangs hanging across her face. He angled her face toward him better, eyes moving over the red mark that was already fading beneath her hairline.

"You're all right?"

She nodded against his hand. "Yup. I didn't even feel it. Everyone says I have a hard head. It's true, Grimmjow."

He looked to each of her eyes, his thumb rubbing the soft skin just below her ear as he estimated the damage, but there was none to be seen.

Ulquiorra's hand had moved to her knee to rest lightly on her fingers there. "I'm sorry, Orihime."

"It's okay," she said, the proximity of both men getting to her. She cleared her throat with a nervous giggle. "I'm fine. Uh, I'll get you some soda, Ulquiorra."

Both Grimmjow and Ulquiorra took the hint and sat back to allow her room to leave the couch. Orihime went to the kitchen and found a tall glass in a cupboard, leaving them to glower at each other.

Actually, only Grimmjow glowered. Ulquiorra still felt guilty. He frowned at the taller Espada. "I did _not_ mean to strike her. You know that."

"You still did it," Grimmjow said lowly, glancing to where Orihime was at the refrigerator door, moving things around until she found a bottle of Orange Crush. "She's just a girl. They're fragile."

"I know that."

Grimmjow nodded to the lamp stand. "I want to see that."

Ulquiorra handed him the photo. "Don't bend it."

"I won't."

"Don't rip it."

Grimmjow grumbled an oath. He looked over the two faces, gaze remaining on Orihime's smile. "Whose idea was this?"

"Hers."

"Why?"

Ulquiorra didn't want to answer, and answering wouldn't ease his transgression of hitting her, but he answered anyway. "She has pictures of her friends," he said, and then added, "in her bedroom." As much as he wanted to magnify the dark look Grimmjow gave him with the truth, he set aside the impulse. "What's wrong with a picture?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "You're in it, that's what's wrong."

Ulquiorra snatched the photo back. "Keep your damn hands off it, Grimmjow."

He glared at Ulquiorra as the dark-haired Espada stood up. "She has a list --"

"That list is for you," he muttered, looking to Orihime as she poured a glass of orange soda at the kitchen counter. He carefully folded the photo so that her face wasn't creased, and put it in his shirt's breast pocket. "I don't need anything to drink, Orihime," he called. "I'm leaving now for the market."

She turned, looking to him in confusion, and then to the clock on the wall. "But you've still got two hours before you have to leave."

"Let him go," Grimmjow grunted as she came to the couch.

Ulquiorra didn't look at him, instead his eyes going to Orihime's small frown. "I'm very sorry for striking you, Orihime. I didn't mean to. I'll get an early start for work. Maybe I can start sooner."

She frowned, walking with him to the door. "Oh, your lunch. I'll pack something quickly."

"I'll get my own," he said, turning to see the pout that claimed her face. "You've done enough."

She watched him open the door, seeing him glance back to Grimmjow she knew to still be on the couch. She smiled more. "I'll make you a big breakfast when you get back."

He nodded. "Thank you."

He opened the door and left, and she sighed, flicking on the switch to the hall light. She turned to look at Grimmjow, leaning her back to the door.

"You know he didn't mean to hit me," she said as he nodded. "It barely even touched me, Grimmjow."

"I know it."

She frowned slightly. "You made a big deal out of nothing."

He shrugged. "He should be more careful."

For a moment she remained at the door. "Don't you like your new place?"

He nodded, aiming the remote control at the TV set. "There's no one there. It's too quiet. Too," he shrugged again, "empty."

"You should get that kitten from the pet shop."

"Come over here."

When she didn't move, remaining at the door with her back pressed to it as he flicked through the few channels she got on the small TV set, he sighed and waved her over. "Come over here and sit down, Orihime."

She switched off the light to the hall, and crossed the room and sat just off center on the couch, closer to where Ulquiorra had sat moments before. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head, watching her sit primly at the cushion's edge. "Why are you still so reluctant to sit by me? I haven't hurt you." His eyes dropped to her arm as he said it. "Not really. Not intentionally."

She looked to the horror movie on TV where a bluish colored boy was making horrible sounds at a terrified woman from a closet. She sat farther back on the couch, watching Grimmjow's arm shift to the edge of the back cushion behind her shoulders, not quite touching her hair.

"You're off work early tonight," she said after a few silent moments.

He nodded. "Finished quicker. More trucks coming in tomorrow night."

She sighed, slowly becoming more at ease in his presence as the movie progressed into an eerie series of creepy scenes. After several long moments, she chanced what she really wanted to know. Not so much by query, but more of a hinting nature.

"You said you weren't hungry."

He glanced down to where her hands had twisted into a knot with each other on the shorts of her lap. "I'm not." He looked back to the movie. "Why aren't you in your pajamas? It's past midnight."

"Oh, well, I'll change later." She kept her eyes on the TV screen. "You said you weren't staying."

This time he looked at her longer, and she didn't look back at him. She knew he was looking at her, she could feel him breathing on her hair, the shift in his posture. She felt it make her cheeks heat warmer.

"Would you tell him to leave if he had some place to go?"

She looked up at him without thinking, finding him nearer than she imagined. "Where?"

He frowned, watching a slight pout come to her lips. "Would you?"

She looked slowly back to the movie, drawing up one knee to rest her heel on the edge of the couch, wrapping her arms around her shin. "It depends on where he'd go."

"Dammit, Orihime," he grouched, his arm leaving from the back of the couch, hand resting on her foot at cushion, "would you tell him to get out of here?"

Her eyes remained on his as he leaned closer, her throat suddenly dry when she tried to swallow. She opened her mouth to speak, still unsure what she was going to say as her eyes dropped to where his fingers grazed her painted toes.

"I guess ... I guess it depends on ..." Her words faltered as she watched her toes curl beneath his hand. "On where he --"

"Dammit, girl," he muttered, making her yelp as his arm went back to the couch behind her, his other hand moving to her knee, large grasp making her knee cap disappear beneath his fingers as he faced her fully. "Would you kick him out or not?"

She felt herself nod dumbly, stare fastened on his rapt attention only inches from her face.

She'd meant to answer, had intended to answer, had even opened her mouth to answer, when a knock sounded at the door. It was a slow, deliberate knock of four strikes.

Orihime looked to it as Grimmjow stood and went to the door. He looked back at her when she remained immobile on the couch.

He frowned at her. "Are you going to come here? Do you want me to answer it?"

She nodded rapidly, and then switched gears to shake her head. She jumped to her feet and joined him at the door, leaning close to the dead bolt that was unlocked. "Hello?"

"Well, hey, there," a man's voice drawled. "Are you home?"

Grimmjow frowned at the tone. "No way in hell."

She looked up at him. "Who is it? Do you know him?"

Grimmjow jerked open the door to the dark hall, low light of the lamp spilling out to illuminate Starrk leaning against the doorframe, white shirt unbuttoned to reveal an intact chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, hello yourself," Starrk said, grinning widely at him. He looked down as Orihime peeked around the door. "Well, well, I'm in the right place." He glanced down the hall, waving, wobbling a little as he did. "I found her. Thanks."

Orihime looked out the door more to see two of her neighbors' doors open, a middle-aged man and woman looking her way from separate apartments. She groaned, stepping back.

"Come in before you wake up all my neighbors."

He stumbled in, chuckling. "I already did that, little lady." He glanced back at Grimmjow, squinting at the Sexta's scowl. "Hey, you look just like someone else I know, you know that?" He turned to Orihime. "Did you ever meet Grimmjow?"

"It is me, you idiot." Grimmjow slammed the door shut.

Starrk put a hand to his head at the noise, a bottle of saké in it. "Not so loud, fella."

Grimmjow looked to Orihime. "Did you know he was coming over?"

She shook her head. "Did you?"

"Hell, no."

They both looked to Starrk, who was collapsing onto the couch, sprawling at the center of it, taking up much more than a single cushion.

He rested the bottle on one knee, grinning as he patted the cushion to his side. "Hey, it's still warm. Were you two sitting here cooing?"

Orihime blushed bright pink as she sheepishly edged towards the kitchen, fingers nervous on her opposite arm. "Are, uh, are you hungry, Mr. Starrk?"

Starrk jerked a thumb at her, winking at Grimmjow as the Espada met him at the lamp stand. "She's a cute thing, isn't she?"

"Shut up about her."

"But she is cute. Broke my heart to take her back to Aizen." He hiccupped. "Didn't 'spect to see you here."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Grimmjow looked to the kitchen, trying to wave off Orihime's attempts at playing hostess, but she was already waist deep in the refrigerator.

"Oh, well, I was trying to find Lilynette, and came up short." He took a long swig from the bottle, glazed eyes trying to focus on Grimmjow's scowling features. "Grab a couple of glasses and I'll share this with yous. Big glasses."

"She doesn't drink, and you're not going to be here that long," he said, flicking the lamp up to a higher setting.

Starrk made an injured face at the brightness. "Tone it down. Damn."

Grimmjow looked to the kitchen as Orihime glanced his way, her arms full of bottles and ingredients from the refrigerator. He shook his head. "He's not staying."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. Uh, is he going to eat first?"

"No." He looked back to Starrk as a low growling noise came from the Primera Espada. Sleeping already. His eyes narrowed on the man's drunken slumber, grabbing the bottle from him before it could topple from his loosening clutch. He kicked Starrk's boot. "Get up."

Starrk snored on, drooling.

"Dammit," Grimmjow muttered, taking the bottle into the kitchen where Orihime was watching with more than her usual reservations. He set the bottle on the counter. "He's not eating."

She looked to the slouching figure on the couch, his head lolling to one side. She glanced back up at Grimmjow. "But he's staying?"

"Looks like it." He saw her gaze shift back to the man at the couch. "Go ahead to bed, Orihime. I'll see to him."

Her eyes went back to him, suspicion snapping to their brown depths. "What are you going to do to him?"

He shook his head, pushing the hair from her face, watching her attention go cautiously to his hand. "Nothing. Just make sure he stays on the couch tonight."

She nodded, sighing. "Thanks, Grimmjow." She went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

* * *

**_Who makes the best pairing? Poll is up!_**


	15. Barefoot in the Park

Orihime's nightmare from the preceding night was on her mind as she rolled over in the bedclothes and buried her face in her pillow the next morning. In her dream Starrk had shown up, and Ulquiorra had left early for work, and Grimmjow had stayed the night. Again.

She shook her head, rubbing her hair into a fuzzy ball against the pillow, until she heard low male voices coming from beyond her closed bedroom door, and realized it wasn't a dream. She recognized Grimmjow's deep tone easily, something that was becoming familiar, but it was the added rumble of Starrk's that made her dread getting out of bed the most.

_What kind of afterlife plan did Aizen bestow on his discarded Arrancars?_ she wondered. A free ticket and map to her apartment?

She got out of bed and fumbled through her dresser drawers for a pink tank top and pair of hemmed denim shorts of modest length. She looked around her dresser top, smiling as she found her brush, which she had started keeping in her bedroom since her alone-time in the bathroom had been cut into so much lately. She brushed her hair and put it up into a ponytail, and then misted on a light floral perfume out of habit before she realized what she was doing. With a blush she scrubbed most of it off her neck with a sock until she saw the red area the action was leaving above her collarbone. She sighed and tossed the sock into the drawer, and then braced herself and opened the bedroom door.

Grimmjow and Starrk were at the kitchen counter when she got there, both on their second glass of orange soda, Starrk looking more haggard than when she'd last seen him.

He grinned at her, the effort a little worn. "Morning, Inoue-chan. Sorry for barging in last night, but it seemed like a good idea at the time." He sniffed. "You smell nice."

She smiled through a slight blush, remaining at the counter near the refrigerator as Grimmjow made no pretense at glimpsing her legs. "Uh, are you hungry?" She looked to Grimmjow when he'd finished looking at her shorts. "Anyone?"

They both nodded.

Breakfast was of Orihime's specialty leek pancakes and raspberry syrup with crushed bacon bits she kept on hand, just for such an occasion, with generous heaping portions of leftover tuna and soba soup. They sat at the table, Grimmjow scowling at the other man.

"Then why haven't you got your own place yet?" he wanted to know once Starrk had finished detailing his own severance allotment. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Orihime wanted to know the same, but she didn't say so, preferring to sit quietly at the table, muting any sounds that caught her when Grimmjow's knee impacted hers beneath the table. He'd mumbled something that sounded like _sorry_ twice, but it did little to stop him from moving abruptly every time Starrk detailed another amenity of being Primera Espada, such as the bonus pay and choice of what he termed 'dumping locale', namely Karakura Town.

"Still looking for Lilynette," Starrk said for the third time. "She said she'd be here, but I haven't seen anything of her." He took a postcard from his pocket and set it on the table. "That's where we're going."

Both Orihime and Grimmjow looked closer at the postcard. On it was a picture of a sunny sandy beach, palm trees draping over the pristine blue water under a superimposed sun-face wearing sunglasses.

"Hawaii," Starrk said, nodding, then stopped when his saké headache caught up with the movement.

Orihime studied the postcard in Grimmjow's hand as he turned it over to see a line map inset near the greeting on the reverse side. She carefully moved back a bit when her hair brushed his as they hovered over the map. "That's not Hawaii; it's Okinawa."

Starrk popped a bite of leek pancake into his mouth but didn't chew. "It is?"

She nodded.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again. "But it's a lot like Hawaii."

"Damn," he said through the bite as he chewed, grimacing as he crunched into a piece of bacon that surprised him. "I thought it was Hawaii."

"Okinawa is nice, too," she said as Grimmjow pushed the card back across the table to Starrk.

His eyes remained on the card. "Once you find Lilynette, you'll be gone?"

Starrk nodded. "Soon as."

A knock came to the door, and Orihime jumped to her feet, her knee skinning against Grimmjow's in her hurry to answer.

"Dammit," Grimmjow muttered as she left.

Starrk was looking at his plate suspiciously, voice dropping as he glanced to Grimmjow. "Hey, this food here, is it okay to eat?"

"Of course it is," Grimmjow said. "Why not?"

"Well, because I've been here a week and I've never eaten anything like this." Starrk rubbed his stomach and then his chest. "It's not sitting too well."

Grimmjow shrugged, aware that Orihime was letting Ulquiorra into the apartment. He tried to ignore it. "Then maybe you got a bad fill-in." He nodded at Starrk's sternum. "Maybe your heart is crooked or some shit like that."

Starrk swallowed abruptly. "You think that's it? Not the food?" He rubbed the area that had once been the Hollow hole. "Maybe, huh?"

Grimmjow scowled at the hand on the other man's loose shirt. "What the hell is _that_?" He nodded at the black number One on the back of his hand. "Why'd you get to keep your rank?"

Starrk grinned, chuckling as he turned the hand over. "Ah, Lilynette's idea. A tattoo." He nodded slowly. "You can get one on your back, Grimmjow." He laughed louder. "You can get any number you want!" He slapped the table, then groaned at the noise and looked up as Orihime and Ulquiorra approached the table.

Grimmjow glanced to them, a sudden urge to break something welling within him as he saw the bouquet of flowers in Orihime's arms, her smiling face barely visible behind the billowing arrangement in pastel pink tissue paper.

He glowered at Ulquiorra, who was looking at Starrk with something as close to shock as the Fourth could manage.

Orihime smiled brightly, leaning in to smell the overflowing bundle of large-petaled pink, yellow, and lavender flowers nestled among the long green stems and splay of fern fronds. The delight in her face matched the barely controlled incense in Grimmjow's, which was offset by Ulquiorra and Starrk's surprise at seeing each other.

"Thank you, Ulquiorra," she said again as he looked between the men seated at the table. "They're so lovely. I'll put them in water. Sit down and I'll make you breakfast!"

Grimmjow watched her nearly skip into the kitchen, the flowers held lovingly as she placed them on the counter and _oohed_ and _ahhed_ over them before reaching up and opening a cupboard over the sink. He glared at Ulquiorra as he sat down across the table from him, but the expression was lost on the Fourth, as he was frowning at Starrk.

"Flowers?" Grimmjow muttered. "You think that's going to make up for hitting her yesterday?"

Starrk turned a sharp look on Ulquiorra. "You hit her? Damn, didn't think that possible, Schiffer."

"It was an accident," Ulquiorra said, watching Starrk's thumb move across his chest. "You're here, too? Is everyone in Hueco Mundo dead?"

Starrk shrugged. "Near as I can tell."

Grimmjow watched Orihime fill a clear vase with water at the sink faucet and put the flowers into it, arranging them carefully so that they were all facing out.

"Do you have problems with your heart?" Starrk asked, nodding to Ulquiorra's throat.

"What are you doing here?" Ulquiorra asked.

"Looking for Lilynette. Does your heart get heated up when you eat?" Starrk dredged the near to last bite of pancake through the dark red syrup on his plate.

"Heated up," Ulquiorra repeated, frowning. "I don't think so."

Starrk burped and patted his sternum. "Damn, something's on fire."

"As long as it's beating you won't die," Ulquiorra said factually. "It can't catch fire without a flame." He put a hand to his neck, feeling the rhythmic throb there.

Orihime returned then with two plates, one stacked higher with a group of small pancakes drowning in raspberry syrup on it, bacon bits topping the red. She placed it before him, smiling, and set her own plate to the side. "Oh, orange juice."

She left back to the refrigerator.

Ulquiorra looked with misgivings at the plate before him, then to Grimmjow and Starrk's empty plates. "It smells good."

"It is good," Grimmjow said. "What did you do? Rob the wedding of flowers?"

Ulquiorra shook his head. "I bought them. You're not the only one with money." He looked up as Orihime returned and set a glass of orange juice before him and resumed her seat at the fourth side of the table with her own glass.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said, smiling at him. "They're very nice. How was your first day of work?"

He shrugged. "It went okay, I think."

"When do you work next?"

"Tonight. There are some special deliveries for a few of the shops on the Bay." He looked at the plate before him, aroma enticing him into trying the rosy pile of food.

She frowned at his hand still at his throat. "Is something wrong?"

He dropped his hand to take the chopsticks by his plate. "No. Starrk was saying his heart was heating up."

A confused look claimed her face, her attention leveling on Starrk as he put a hand to his chest, pushing. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing like that," he said. "Just something sticking in the way when I eat." He nodded to Grimmjow. "Sexta here seems to think they put my heart in off-kilter."

"Oh, that's not your heart," she said, giggling a little as she looked to his hand below the center of his chest.

They all looked to her, Ulquiorra's first bite of pancake dropping from his chopsticks as he did.

She looked to each of them in turn. "Well, it's not. Your heart's here." She put a hand to the left side of her chest, a movement they all followed a little too closely. She blushed and half shrugged. "Well, it _is_."

"Not mine," Ulquiorra said, one hand at his throat. "I can feel it beating."

"That's your pulse," she said, lowering her hand. "Everyone has their heart in the same place."

"Then what did they stick in the Hollow hole?" Grimmjow asked, his hand at his abdomen, fingers scrunching up his t-shirt.

"Uh, more anatomy, I guess." She nodded, smiling more. "Intestines. That's it."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, scooping up a large bite of pancakes and syrup with a spoon so she wouldn't miss any of it. "I felt it beating."

As much as Grimmjow wanted to gloat at the imprecation, he only nodded.

Ulquiorra and Starrk's attention snapped to her, and then to Grimmjow and back to her again. Orihime saw their attentions waver, and stuck the spoon of pancakes in her mouth.

Ulquiorra frowned at Grimmjow. "She _felt_ it beating? When?"

Starrk chuckled, his elbow giving the Fourth Espada a nudge that nearly wobbled him, winking. "He was here last night, getting all toasty with her."

Orihime looked to Grimmjow, who grinned at Ulquiorra's growing distress. She swallowed quickly. "What did you tell him?" she asked immediately.

Grimmjow shook his head. "Didn't tell him anything." He drank down the last of his juice, grinning wider. "He just assumed."

"Assumed what?" Ulquiorra asked, frown increasing, hand clamping the chopsticks. "You said you weren't staying, Grimmjow."

"I couldn't leave her alone with him," he said, jerking a thumb at Starrk. "He was drunk."

Ulquiorra looked to Starrk and then to Orihime, who was intent on her breakfast, face lowered over her plate as she collected her next bite with the spoon.

Starrk waved a hand at Ulquiorra. "Hey, can you blame him? Everyone needs to find a soft spot, butter a little toast for someone." He sighed, eyes taking on a far off look. "It's the little things that you miss in someone, you know? I mean, me and Lilynette have been together forever, and I can tell you, if anyone wasn't good enough for her, I'd send them off. She's too young to know what's best for her."

Orihime was glad the topic had moved away from her, but was a little confused about toast. She didn't add anything, instead taking another enormous bite as the Espadas stared at each other.

"I didn't think you and Lilynette were that type of close," Grimmjow said, pushing his plate away.

"We're not," Starrk said sharply. "She's like a daughter to me."

Ulquiorra nodded slightly before taking his next bite. "That makes more sense."

"But I miss her," Starrk said, frowning as he watched Orihime chew a mouthful of pancake and bacon. "Damn, you aren't the dainty eater, are you, Inoue-chan?"

She swallowed too quickly. "No."

"There's nothing wrong with the way she eats," Grimmjow said curtly as Ulquiorra opened his mouth to reply.

"Didn't say there was," Starrk said as Orihime blushed a little and cornered a smaller bite on her spoon.

"I do eat too much," she said with a sigh. "But I really like food."

"Don't worry about it," Grimmjow said, deciding against his next comment that would have been considered off-color, and sent a pointed look across the table to Ulquiorra. "There's an apartment open in my building. You can move in if you've got the money."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed slightly at him. "That's convenient."

Grimmjow nodded, grinning, and then grinned a little more when Orihime's knee settled against his below the table, and didn't move away. He wondered if Ulquiorra could sense it. Or if her other knee was against the Fourth's. "You said he had to go, so he's gone."

Ulquiorra exhaled slowly. "Your upstairs neighbor?"

Grimmjow nodded.

Starrk looked to Ulquiorra. "You're getting a new place? Hey, where do you live _now_?"

Orihime grabbed her glass of juice and took a long drink as all eyes went to her.

"Here?" Starrk said, reading his fellow Espadas only too well, amusement making him smile widely. "Damn, girl, you _are_ busy."

"Shut up," Grimmjow growled, annoyance suddenly piqued. "She's been nice enough to put us up when --"

"_Us_?" Starrk echoed. "_Both_ of you? Here?"

Orihime forced a smile through the pink heating through her cheeks and stood up. "Everyone finished? Good." She collected the empty plates and made a beeline for the kitchen with them.

"You can go, too," Grimmjow decided for Starrk. "It's a big place, enough room for both of you. And Lilynette, too, when you find her," he added as Starrk began to say something.

"You've thought this through," Ulquiorra said to Grimmjow.

He nodded. "Damn right. Time to move out."

Orihime overheard their conversation and took the opportunity to slip into her bedroom. The sooner they got to the Golden Blossom Guest Houses to secure Ulquiorra -- and Starrk's -- new housing, the sooner Ulquiorra could get some sleep before his next shift.

She opened the middle drawer of her dresser and searched for her yellow tank top with the green paint on the hem from when she'd helped Tatsuki paint her bedroom. She made a mental note of what he would need.

"Rice cooker, hot plate, plates, oh, we have to get groceries yet for ..." she sighed, realizing there was much yet to do for both apartments, "Grimmjow needs groceries, too. And now --"

"You don't need that," Grimmjow said from her open doorway, startling her. He nodded to the yellow tank top she held up. "The landlord is painting the apartment today."

She nodded at him as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed at his chest as he hovered at the entry. "But Ulquiorra might want to repaint a different color."

"I told him green."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You did?"

He grinned. "Yup."

She refolded the shirt, eyeing him with less suspicion. "You can come in, if you want."

Surprise glint his eyes, and he dropped his arms to his sides, taking a few steps into her sanctuary. He looked around at the room, nodding. "That's new," he said about nothing in the room, watching her refold the shirt a few times. "I'm actually invited in after all the times you made sure the door was shut."

She nodded slowly, not meeting his eyes as she put the shirt back in the drawer. "You're okay."

He chuckled, stepping closer to the dresser. "Not scary anymore?"

"You'll always be scary, Grimmjow," she said more softly than she'd planned, closing the drawer, and then straightening to look at him. A small smile eased onto her face through a faint blush. "Thanks for staying last night."

A slew of comments rushed through his head, but he didn't utter any of them. Maybe one. "That's a switch." Before she could say anything his attention had turned to the corkboard on the wall near her dresser mirror. "What's up with you and the maggot?"

A frown snapped to her face as she looked at the collage of photos, her gaze following his on the one of her and Ichigo. "He's not a maggot."

His eyes narrowed on the faces smiling back at him, scowl growing. "He's too friendly with you."

"Friends are friendly, Grimmjow," she said, trying to keep the wistfulness from her tone as she looked at the photo.

His attention hadn't left the picture, a low growl beginning in his throat.

Much as she wanted to let sleeping bears, dogs, and cats lie, Orihime decided the issue had to be broached. "Seeing as you're going to be living here now," she said, then caught herself as his attention shot to her. She shook her head, rephrasing her comment. "I mean, you're living in the Living World now, and chances are you'll run into Kurosaki-kun eventually." She took a step back as his hands bunched into fists. "It could happen, Grimmjow. It's different here. You can't punch anyone through a brick wall when you don't like them."

He looked back at the collage, eyes switching from her smile to Ichigo's face in the photo. "The War is over, Orihime. What's done is gone."

"Oh?" She smiled hopefully. "You mean, you don't have a problem with him?"

His sudden glower made her feel like she'd shrunk. "Of course I've got a damn problem with him, but I'm not going to hunt him down, if that's what you mean."

"Oh. Good." She nodded feebly. "Because he's..." She was going to say _nice_, but it didn't quite fit. "He's a good brother," she added, smiling more at the neutral word. "A very good big brother to his sisters."

He shrugged, weighing the idea. "That's okay."

"You think so?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's okay." He spent another minute looking over the rest of the photos, scowling more at some of them, tempted to rip a few others off, but didn't. His voice dropped to a thick rumble. "I don't see Crybaby up there."

"She's going to frame it," Ulquiorra said from the doorway, jerking both Orihime and Grimmjow's attention to him. Behind him stood Starrk, who was smiling as he peeked into the room.

"She doesn't need any framed photo of your damn mug," Grimmjow sniped as he started for the doorway with Orihime trailing. "She'll be glad to be rid of your skinny ass."

He paused to finish another insult on the Fourth Espada, but didn't as Orihime ducked under his arm at the doorframe and slipped past them all and out of the room. Starrk looked after her.

"You ran that girl right out of her room, fellas," he said.

Ulquiorra gave Grimmjow a faint parting grin before he followed after Orihime. "But she _did_ want my photo."

* * *

By the time they got to the Golden Blossom Guest Houses it was after noon and the sun was well on its way to scorching Tsukiji and Karakura Town. The pavement reflected the hot and unstirring air on the girl and three Espadas as they wove their way through the alleys to the apartment above Grimmjow's, sounds of a rheumy cough coming from the open doorway as they got there. A wave of paint smell wafted out.

Orihime hung back just inside the door, with Starrk behind her, as Grimmjow and Ulquiorra went to meet the shabbily dressed landlord in the bedroom where the coughing was loudest. Planted at intervals in the main room and kitchen beyond were box fans on the high settings.

After a moment of muted speaking among the men, Orihime stepped farther into the main room, eyes roaming the walls that were a fresh coat of kiwi green paint, the color accenting the arched doorway to the bedroom and bathroom. She nodded, smiling at the roominess. A wood frame futon was to one side, covered with a well used sheet splattered with different colors of paint.

"Not bad, not bad," Starrk said, nodding at the room. "Nothing like yours, Inoue-chan, but enough for a start, don't you say?"

"Oh, yes, it's nice. And big. It doesn't smell too bad." Her nose wrinkled a little as she looked to him, shying away a few steps as he grinned more at her. "Uh, do you have any, uh, luggage?"

"Oh, yes. Damn," he muttered, fingers scratching at the scruff of beard at his throat. "I left that at your place."

"My place?" She shook her head. "You didn't bring any luggage last night, Mr. Starrk."

"Oh? Oh, right. I left it with that guy when I first found your building."

"That guy ... when ..." She frowned, words halting, and then her eyes flung open wider. "The night manager?"

"Yeah, I think that was him. Irritating fella." He nodded, chuckling. "Don't worry, little lady, I won't set up camp on your couch." He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the set of green rooms. "I'll room up with Four here until I find Lilynette." He rubbed his neck, giving her a wink. "I should have used that razor in your bathroom. Say, you've had quite the collection of man-things lying about lately, haven't you?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that, or even exactly what he was asking, and was about to attempt some sort of reply when Ulquiorra and Grimmjow came out of the bedroom and met her and Starrk. Beyond them the landlord was leaning an elbow on the bedroom doorframe, hacking up a lung from the paint fumes.

"He's set," Grimmjow said as Ulquiorra began to speak. "He can move in any time tomorrow."

Orihime nodded, her quick smile dimming as she looked to Ulquiorra. "Oh. Well, congratulations."

"Thank you," he said, throwing Grimmjow a tolerable look.

"But you'll need housewares, and groceries, and linens, and ..." She looked to Grimmjow. "You need groceries, too."

"I've got enough until tomorrow." He took her elbow in a firm but non-bruising hold. "Get out of here before you end up with a headache again."

She left the apartment under his escort, moving to the stairwalk landing, where she was crowded by the other two Espadas as well. Ulquiorra looked back into the apartment, a bit of interest sparking in his green eyes.

"It isn't so bad," he finally said. "Larger than your place," he told Grimmjow.

Grimmjow swallowed down a growl, fingers tightening on Orihime's arm until she spoke.

She looked from Ulquiorra to Starrk. "I suppose there's room for both of you at my --"

"Hell, no," Grimmjow snorted. "No more niceness, Orihime. Ulquiorra works tonight and Starrk isn't staying with you tonight. He can stay with me."

"But you work tonight," she reminded as they filed down the staircase. It was a bobbling fit, with her leading and a train of Espadas behind her that made her step quicker.

"He can stay at my place while I work," he said, moving her to the side as they reached the next landing.

"I won't trouble you any, Inoue-chan," Starrk said, sighing. "No need to put me up, Grimmjow. I'm heading off to find my Lilynette. I'll make another pass through the other side of Karakura. Check out the rest of the singing joints. Karaoke spots."

"She sings?" Ulquiorra asked, visualizing the small Arrancar singing for a moment. He shook his head to clear the image.

"Oh, she's quite ..." Starrk paused. "Loud. Yeah, that's it. Anyway," he said, grinning at Orihime, "I'll catch you back later to get my bag at your building, or," he added as Grimmjow began to say something, "I'll get one of these lower ranks to bring it by Schiffer's place in a couple days or so."

Before Orihime could nod or otherwise comment, Grimmjow answered. "Good. No need for you to drop by tonight."

He moved off down the stairs with a tumbling gait that rattled the stairways, whistling. Ulquiorra looked to Grimmjow.

"Do you think he'll be back tonight?" he asked as they resumed descending the stairs.

"Back here or back to her place?" Grimmjow muttered, hand steady on Orihime's shoulder in front of them.

"Either. Her place," Ulquiorra decided.

"Better not," he said as they reached the bottom of the staircase and joined the sidewalk. "We'll both be at work and she doesn't need his company alone."

"He's not so bad," Orihime said as they took up along her sides. "He seems --"

"No," Grimmjow and Ulquiorra said in unison.

"... Okay," she said slowly.

Without any discussion they found themselves on their way back to Karakura, catching the train as far as the outskirts of the town, and then opting to walk the rest of the way when the tight fit of the train proved too warm and irritating for any of them.

The stop they departed the train was near a park, not one of Orihime's regular haunts, but a nice park that offered more playground equipment than the one nearest to her home. It was filled with children of all ages, nearly every swing and slide at full capacity, every sand box teeming with shovels, buckets, and toddlers in shorts and sun hats.

Across the street was a strip of small shops, a photo booth outside of one. A group of teenage girls were swarming it, hopping as they exchanged photos and edited their own at the side of the booth. Grimmjow looked there, frowning until Ulquiorra noticed his attention.

"Is that where you got your picture?" Grimmjow asked, mostly to Orihime.

"No," Ulquiorra said.

"Not that one," Orihime said. "It was a different one."

Their steps slowed as Grimmjow watched the group of girls chatting with each other, their laughter contagious. Ulquiorra glanced to him and then Orihime, his steps quickening.

She looked up at Grimmjow, watching his study of the girls, halting as his hand closed on her wrist. Something just short of curious turmoil sifted through his face. She smiled, and would have let her hand slide into his had his grip on her wrist allowed it. It didn't.

"Do you want to get your picture taken?" she asked him.

His blue eyes flicked over the happy faces of the girls at the booth. He shook his head. "Not now."

They were all feeling the heat as they crossed the side street to where the park was located, but Grimmjow the most. He pulled at the navy tank top he wore, mumbling curses at the day's warmth that smiled sunnily down on them as they took the sidewalk along the park. He spied a vendor set up at one the corners inside of the park selling cold treats.

"Let's get something," he said, pushing Orihime off the sidewalk as he spoke until she was heading for the grassy entrance of the wooded park. "My treat," he grumbled to Ulquiorra as the other Espada began to speak.

"I'll buy my own," he told him, eyes dropping to where Grimmjow had released Orihime's wrist.

They dodged a couple of boys chasing a dog and two games of Frisbee on their way to the ice cream stand that had set up in the sunnier side of the grassy lawn. Orihime found herself looking around anxiously, hoping to see no one she knew, but knowing she was close enough to home for it to happen. Actually, they were halfway between her apartment and Tatsuki's neighborhood. She tried to think if she'd ever mentioned the Espadas to her friend.

_Not by name_, she thought, _but Tatsuki would definitely recognize either of them_. She had tried to detail as little as possible about her trauma as Hueco Mundo. _I think I'm safe,_ she thought, sighing as she waited with Grimmjow and Ulquiorra in the fast moving line for ice cream.

She smiled a little. They had improved, both of them, she had to admit. Neither looked ready to rip anyone's head off for a wrong look, and Grimmjow was certainly less cannibalistic-looking without the teeth of his mask planted at the side of his face. She looked to Ulquiorra. He was still a bit on the saddish side, but she liked how he looked. And she knew how he was inside, too.

After making the ice cream man list every single variety of ice cream he sold, including what exactly the ridiculous names meant, Orihime, Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow ordered and found a picnic table in the shadier part of the park to eat the quickly melting treats.

She sat down and licked the sugar cone up the side where the strawberry ice cream was trickling, the top green scoop of mint chocolate chip adding its own color along the pink. She caught the melting dessert up with her tongue, and then caught the stares of both Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. They neglected their own melting treats to watch with fascination as a blush bloomed over her cheeks.

"That's how you make it stop dripping," she said by way of explanation.

They both nodded, half of Grimmjow's attention turning to his own ice cream cone as half stayed on her beside him. Ulquiorra had been timid about eating the cold treat, but when it threatened to melt before his very eyes he submitted to taking a large bite from the side.

Grimmjow ate a bite from the top of his double vanilla scoop that took a third off, and then made a face at the coldness of it.

"You could have gotten sprinkles or another flavor," she said to him, eyes on the quickly disappearing green scoop of her own cone.

"This is fine," he said through a muffled mouthful of ice cream.

She looked to Ulquiorra who was regaining control over the double stack of pineapple banana ice cream. She was about to comment on his finesse when the pleading tone of a young girl's voice added to the already noisy park.

Orihime looked around at the sound as Grimmjow pivoted on the seat beside her, eyes skimming the playground.

"Stop it!" the girl cried. "Give it back! Please! He's my favorite!"

Orihime turned to straddle the bench seat, the voice echoing familiar in her head as she found the owner.

Among the sand boxes a small girl was running barefoot between three boys a little older than her as they flung her pair of sandals and a stuffed animal between them over her head. She'd just reach one when he'd laugh and throw her sandal or toy to another boy, who'd repeat the vicious game until she was running haphazardly between them all, sobbing and pleading.

"Hold this," Grimmjow said, eyes on the four children as he shoved his ice cream cone into Orihime's hands.

"Wait!" she called as he strode across the playground, eyes fixed on the group of children. "Wait! Grimmjow! No, don't hurt her!" She looked from him to Ulquiorra across the table, wondering if she should give him the ice creams and bolt after Grimmjow.

"He won't hurt her," Ulquiorra said, frowning at her. He nodded to where Grimmjow had caught up with the kids. "Maybe the boys."

Orihime's hands tightened around the cones as she looked back.

Grimmjow's large hand closed at the back of the first boy he reached, jerking the early teenage boy into dropping the pink sandal he held. "What the hell's wrong with you?!"

He snatched up the sandal and whopped the boy in the back of the head with it before turning on another boy who tried to run. Grimmjow snagged him by the waistband of his shorts and grabbed the sandal out his hand, then pushed him to the ground.

The third boy stood stock still as Grimmjow advanced on him, knees knocking as Grimmjow swiped Kon out his hands and poked him in the chest with a single hard finger that made the boy fold to the ground.

Grimmjow looked at Kon, who was as close to tears as he could get in his stuffed animal form, and then looked around for Yuzu who was standing a few feet away, panting from her quest to save Kon. He handed back the toy.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she said, smiling through her tears as she bowed repeatedly. "Thank you!"

"Where are your," Grimmjow thought for a moment, correcting his terminology, "parents?" He handed back her sandals. "You shouldn't be here alone."

"Oh, I'm not." She smiled and followed him as he took a few steps toward the picnic table as Orihime and Ulquiorra stood up. "My sister is here, too, but she had to go find the Frisbee."

Orihime had just finished licking the last bit of melted vanilla ice cream from the back of her hand as she and Ulquiorra met up with Grimmjow and the girl.

"Hi, Orihime-chan!" Yuzu cried, squealing and running to her, Kon and sandals flapping in her hands.

"Hi, Yuzu-chan," Orihime greeted with a smile, nervously looking to Grimmjow as he watched the exchange. "Oh, poor ... dolly. He's okay now."

Yuzu hugged Kon tight to her chest, glancing up at Grimmjow for a moment. "Do you know him?" she asked Orihime.

"Uh, yes, in fact," Orihime said, faltering for a decent introduction that wouldn't get anyone hurt, "he's a friend. Uh, he's new here."

Yuzu turned to Grimmjow and did a proper curtsy and smiled her best smile. "I'm Kurosaki Yuzu. Pleased to meet you. Thank you for rescuing Kon for me."

Grimmjow had stopped listening, eyes fastened on the girl's bubbly smile and cherubic face as she looked far up at him. He finally managed to speak. "Where's your brother?"

"Grimmjow..." Ulquiorra said in warning.

Grimmjow waited on Yuzu's answer. "Is he here?"

"No," she said, swinging her sandals, and then dropping to sit on the grass. "Do you know Ichigo?"

By now Orihime had ice cream running down the backs of both hands, but she was oblivious to the sticky melted treat as Grimmjow looked around the park. He looked back to Yuzu. "Grimmjow, please, she's just a little girl..."

"Why isn't he here looking out for you? I thought that's what big brothers did for little sisters," he said, frowning at her as she pulled on her sandals, ignoring his fierce look.

"He went camping with some friends for a few days," she said, grunting as she buckled her sandals and hopped to her feet, smiling at him. "Thanks for getting my sandals back."

He nodded, eyes skimming over her ruffle-hemmed yellow skirt and orange tank top. Most of the scowl fell from his face. "You shouldn't be alone."

Yuzu glanced around the park, her smile brightening. "There's my sister. Oh, she was getting ice cream." She smiled at Karin in the distance who was carrying two ice creams, the Frisbee under one arm as she looked around for her sister. Yuzu glanced to Orihime. "We're with some friends from class."

"Oh, that's good," Orihime said, relieved that what she thought would be a volatile situation was passing.

Yuzu smiled at Grimmjow. "I like your hair. It's a pretty color." She wrapped both arms around Kon until he was strangled against her. "Thanks. Bye!"

She ran off to join Karin, who was now heading in the opposite direction on the playground.

For a moment Grimmjow watched after her, as did Ulquiorra, and Orihime watched Grimmjow.

"You were nice to her," she said, smiling more as he looked to her.

"She's a little girl," he said, shrugging. He saw the smile reach her eyes, bringing a grin from him. "You think I can't be nice?"

She shook her head, and then nodded. "Oh, sorry," she mumbled as she looked down at the melted ice creams in both her hands. "I kind of forgot to ... to keep them ... from melting."

She handed him the half melted vanilla cone, taking a moment to unstick the treat from her grasp.

"Forget it," he said. "Toss them, and we'll get new ones."

Ulquiorra looked at the mild yellow drips crossing the back of his hand, glancing to Orihime as she somewhat bashfully licked the vanilla from her fingers that had held the cone as it melted. In her other hand the strawberry was lacing down her wrist.

He looked to Grimmjow as the Sexta watched also.

Grimmjow cleared his throat as Orihime gave up on her fingers and looked around for a water fountain. "Come on," he said. "Let's take you home. I've got to go to work."

* * *

**_Who makes the best pairing? Poll is up!_**


	16. Home Alone

The rest of the trip home was uneventful. Grimmjow walked with Orihime and Ulquiorra to her apartment building's manager desk, and then told them he was heading back to Tsukiji.

The staircase passage to Orihime's floor was hot, the warm air trapped in the hall, seemingly magnified by the children running and laughing along the floors above and below the levels. Orihime was still fighting the sticky-sweet dryness in her mouth from the second double-helping of ice cream Grimmjow had got her, this time a scoop each of cherry chip and fudge-marshmallow ripple.

"... a bento box and groceries," she was saying to Ulquiorra as he followed her up the stairs. "Ramen packets are easy to cook; you just need water and a pan and a hot plate. Oh, and linens and pillows, and kitchen ..."

He listened, he really did, but the swish of her hips in the denim shorts as she climbed the steps and the gentle bounce of her auburn hair trailing down her back along the pink tank top were starting to eat at what he was beginning to discover as more than distraction.

She suddenly turned as they reached the next floor and looked at him. "What do you think? Is that all right?"

For a moment his eyes took on the larger appearance of guiltiness before he managed a few nods. She smiled back.

"Good. Grimmjow can come with us, too."

Ulquiorra scowled as she proceeded to lead them down the hall to her apartment, wishing he'd been listening with comprehension a little more closely. They turned the corner to her apartment and surprised the girl standing outside Orihime's door.

Tatsuki had just looked up from the quick note she was writing to leave for Orihime on a slip of paper, her friend's low voice making her glance down the hall, and then all her instincts and training took over.

"Run, Orihime!" she cried, dropping pen and paper when she saw the green-eyed Espada at her friend's side. "Get out of here!"

Orihime barely had time to step to the side as Tatsuki charged for Ulquiorra, certain death in the girl's eyes.

Ulquiorra had no time at all. Tatsuki's fist planted a solid punch on his cheek, followed by what would have been a reverse roundhouse kick aimed at his collarbone had he not caught her foot.

"Ha!"

Tatsuki wrenched her foot free and was recoiling for another attack with increased venom when Orihime grabbed her about her waist and dragged her back. "Let me at him, 'Hime!"

"He's okay, Tatsuki!" Orihime wrapped her arms tighter, dodging flying elbows, tugging her flailing friend away from Ulquiorra. "He's nice now. He's okay!"

Ulquiorra rubbed his cheek, which was turning red and burning, watching Tatsuki thrash out at him, her eyes livid as Orihime pulled her back.

"He's not bad anymore," she said, grunting as Tatsuki twisted. "He's my friend now."

Tatsuki's tornado stilled. She looked to Orihime, fists kept balled. "Your _friend_?" She darted a look to Ulquiorra still holding his cheek. "He attacked you! I remember it! He was --"

"He's not that way anymore." Orihime worked up a weak smile at the swelling beginning at Ulquiorra's cheek. She nodded at Tatsuki's bewildered look. "We're friends." She eased her arms from around the girl. "Come on. I'll introduce you and," part of her smile fell away as her nervousness grew, "try to explain."

Ten minutes later in Orihime's apartment they three sat at the table. Tatsuki's retaliatory impulses were in check as she sipped the Orange Crush in her glass, eyes on Ulquiorra at the other side of the table. He held an ice pack shaped like a sunfish to his cheek, the coldness numbing the red mark that showed Tatsuki's knuckle imprints in faint bruises. His own orange soda was untouched.

Orihime had talked non-stop for eight of the ten minutes, rapid-fire excuses piled on top of reasons as she layered her justification for Ulquiorra's presence in her life.

Tatsuki frowned, nodding as Orihime finished. "I guess that's okay."

Orihime sat straighter on her knees on the cushion at the table edge. "It is?" She'd only half explained, really, leaving out Hueco Mundo and her captivity, so maybe denouncing Ulquiorra's first visit with Yammy as a misunderstanding was working. Some day far away from the present she promised herself she'd tell Tatsuki everything. But not today.

Tatsuki nodded as Ulquiorra gave her a moping, guarded look. "Yeah, I guess I can forgive him if you can."

Ulquiorra sighed, not out of relief, but because he was too tired to think of a better response. "It's nice to meet Orihime's friends," he said, the swelling at his cheek making his words slow, which prompted him to say it again. "It's nice to meet you."

Tatsuki nodded. "Sorry for hitting you." She turned to Orihime. "I start martial arts camp next week and we haven't spent a single day doing anything together. What are you doing tonight?"

Orihime's face perked a genuine smile, which soon dimmed. "Oh, uh, well ..." She looked to Ulquiorra, who had slumped his face into his hand holding the ice pack as he rested his elbow on the table. "Oh, you haven't slept all day and you have to work tonight," she said with sudden realization at the hour. She glanced to the wall clock reading almost four o'clock. She'd been so glad she hadn't had to make excuses for showing up in front of Tatsuki with Ulquiorra _and_ Grimmjow that a few details had strayed. "You need to get some sleep, Ulquiorra."

"I'll be fine," he said without any conviction.

"No, no. You need your rest."

Tatsuki caught on to what neither of them was saying, eyes sharpening on Ulquiorra despite Orihime having left out a few vital facts. "He's staying here? _Here_, 'Hime?"

Orihime nodded slowly. "He moves into his own place tomorrow, Tatsuki. It's just been a few days."

Tatsuki's mouth made several movements, but none of the words came out. "Here?" she finally stuttered again.

Orihime nodded. Ulquiorra watched Tatsuki warily, seeing her hands bunch into fists.

"It's okay," Orihime said, nodding vigorously now, smiling. "He's, he's like ..." she looked to Ulquiorra, who was now leaning slightly toward her in anticipation of her next words, "... like family." She smiled at the idea, nodding more slowly as she beamed at him. "That's it, Tatsuki. He's almost like family."

Ulquiorra smiled, almost, but most of it was hidden behind the frozen fish pack. If he hadn't known where his heart was from Orihime's earlier description over pancakes at breakfast he would've known then by the soft warm spot growing in his chest.

Family.

Family was better than friend. Certainly closer.

Family was born-with. Born-into.

He smiled a little more. _Take that, Cat_.

Family was --

"He's like a brother," Orihime added, sighing at him.

Part of Ulquiorra's smile faded.

_Brother_ brought up different connotations, and not ones appropriate for some of the thoughts that had begun going through his head.

Tatsuki smiled at him, nodding with approval. "That's okay, then, Orihime. Good."

Ulquiorra drowned his thoughts in his Orange Crush, drinking half of the melted-ice diluted beverage until he felt like choking at the non-Hole in his chest.

Brother?

Before he could continue his present thoughts Orihime had said something, and Tatsuki had said something else, and he'd nodded in response to something, and he found himself under Orihime's escort to her bedroom.

They stood in the center of the room, her before him as her fingers pulled his hand away from his cheek to see the damage beneath the frozen fish pack.

"Oh, it looks good," she murmured, eyes moving over his cheekbone that was only partly red, the points of bruise from Tatsuki's knuckles fading more. Her fingertips brushed gently against the cold surface of his skin, the touch lost to him with the numbing effects of the ice pack. "Does it hurt?"

He focused on her brown eyes looking inquiringly at him. "I don't know. I can't feel it."

"Then it doesn't hurt." She smiled, her fingers drifting past the numb area of skin to the warmer cheek. "Go ahead and get some sleep, Ulquiorra. What time do you work tonight?"

"Eight-thirty." He watched her hand drop from his face. "We're decorating a hall for a fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration. It'll take all night."

"Fifty years," she said with a wistful sigh. "That's such a long time. I'm going to -- well, I hope I can do that. Be married for fifty years to someone." She nodded. "I suppose that doesn't sound like so long to you."

"I know it's a long time in the Living World," he said. He handed back the partially thawed fish pack.

She took it. "I'll wake you up at seven-thirty. It's not much time to sleep, but you have all day tomorrow to catch up. The market is closed on Sundays. Just open to shop owners."

"Grimmjow will be off earlier tonight. He'll probably come here."

She shrugged one shoulder, watching him study her. "I think he'll go home."

He frowned. "Do you want him to?"

"... Of course. You'd think he'd be excited about having his own new place." Her eyes lit. "Are you?"

"About having my own place?"

She nodded.

The thickness of his cold cheek made only half of the non-committal face he wanted to. "I like the color. You'll help me get it into working order?"

She nodded eagerly. "We'll make it nice for you."

She slipped past him to the bed and used her free, dry hand to pat the pillow, blushing a little as she looked to him. "We'll be quiet so you can sleep. I'll have your lunch all packed when you wake up, okay?"

He had no choice but to nod. Anything he wanted to say had to get past his throat, and something was in the way there. He watched her walk to the door, again her denim shorts jarring his line of thought.

"Do you really think of me as ... brother?" he asked quietly.

She turned and looked to him, one hand on the half open door and the other clutching the soggy fish. "My brother came back to me as a Hollow once, so yes, kind of like a brother. But not exactly, of course."

It did little to help him clear up his questions.

"Sleep well," she said, and then left out the door, pulling it behind her to shut completely.

* * *

Twilight was surrendering to night as Grimmjow took the streets from the train station to Orihime's neighborhood. He had a twenty minute walk, one which he most definitely wanted to do without the pack of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalks deeper in town.

He'd spent most of his short shift of four hours loading semi-frozen fish onto trucks for their trip to the outskirts of Tokyo for lower echelon restaurants. It was easy money, and the time it demanded in the refrigerated trucks was welcome after the scorching afternoon.

This time his purpose to Orihime's apartment building wasn't entirely his own. He probably wouldn't even see her.

Perhaps he should at least say hello, he thought, taking the next section of sidewalk against the light across the street, ignoring the cars honking their horns at him.

Besides, he had a question for her. She should be alone.

After all, Ulquiorra was at work -- he'd seen him there just before he'd left the market himself -- and someone should make sure Starrk wasn't loitering about her place.

Grimmjow was halfway through muddling up a better excuse for himself when a familiar auburn head of hair caught his eye under the street lights blinking on ahead of him on the sidewalk.

It didn't take much to recognize Orihime, the bouncy step, the hourglass figure with well-distributed sand --

He had to stop thinking about sand. Too much like Hueco Mundo, and he was anxious to forget that lost cause.

He watched her walk for a few moments, keeping pace with her steps despite his longer strides, wanting to break a few necks of the men and teenage boys who gave her a second look as she passed them under the street lights. He caught up with her.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she side-stepped almost off the sidewalk when he got to her.

"Oh! Hi, Grimmjow," she said, veering back to his side with a less than timid smile. "You're off work early."

"Not much to do tonight. A lot of what was coming in got postponed until early Monday." He looked at the top of her head when her attention went to the sidewalk before them. "You're out alone?"

She nodded, looking up to him, fanning herself with a take-out menu. "I went out for pizza with a friend."

"That maggot?" he growled.

Her lips bunched into a pout. "No. And no. Tatsuki." She sighed and looked to the few pedestrians ahead of them. "She leaves for sports camp next week and I won't see her. I haven't hardly seen her at all lately."

He nodded, pulling at the blue shirt that was too warm for the weather with even only a few of the middle buttons fastened. He let her lead as they turned the next section of sidewalk onto a street with less shops, heading to the more residential area. "Has Starrk been by?"

"No."

"Good."

"Have you seen him?"

"No. He can stay at my place until Ulquiorra moves into his apartment tomorrow, but I don't know if he's coming by or not."

She sighed. "But you're _here_."

"Yeah, I know that, dammit. I just came by to get the bag he left with your manager so he won't have an excuse to hang around at your place." He looked to one of the shops as they reached it, the garishly painted window advertising a variety of yakuza-quality tattoo designs in fanciful colors. His steps slowed, eyes moving over the plainer designs.

Orihime paused with him. "Do you want to get one?" she asked after a long moment of observing his study of the tattoo parlor.

Grimmjow's eyes flicked over the painted dragons that arched up the side of the glass of the window, frowning at the design.

"Do you like that one?" she asked, looking at the dragon in blues and golds.

"No."

"Oh? Something else?" She bit her lip as she thought about the mention Starrk had made of ranks. "Anything else?"

He shook his head. "No." He draped an arm at her shoulder, catching a few wisps of hair beneath his hand from her pony tail as his fingers settled at the edge of her tank top strap. "I don't need anything here."

She nodded and turned with him along the sidewalk. For half a block they walked, her becoming increasingly aware of his hand at her shoulder, feeling her cheeks heat for the wrong reasons in the too warm evening air. "Are you hungry?"

"You just got done with pizza with your friend and you're hungry already?" He glimpsed her body as a whole. "Where the hell do you put it all?"

"I was asking if _you_ were hungry," she said.

"I already ate at the market. Some shit rice ball thing with no flavor at all."

She nodded and was about to make another remark when he stopped them. He pointed to a photo booth down a side street just before they reached a crossing at the street corner.

"Those things have cameras in them?"

She looked to the small purikura booth. "Yes. Do you want to get your picture taken?"

His attention left the small kiosk and went to her. "We're getting one." He grinned at the idea. "Two, if you want one."

She nodded, smiling a little.

The photo booth was small, one of the lesser maintained ones, but still with the swirling kanji advertising what joy it would be to have a picture taken inside. The few flashing lights above it seemed especially bright in the near darkness of the side street.

Grimmjow swept away the short curtain and looked in. A single stool was at one side, the controls of the small console at the other side.

"Come on," he said, hand slipping to her wrist when he felt her balk as he held the curtain aside.

She shook her head, and then nodded to the stool. "Go in. It's only for one person, Grimmjow. Get your picture taken. You can make duplicates, and I'll get one of those."

He frowned at her, feeling her wrist tense in his fingers. "I want one with you, Orihime. Why would I want a damn picture of myself alone?"

Before she could answer he ducked in, filling the small interior. He sat down on the stool and pulled at her wrist, his other hand holding the curtain up.

"It's really only for one person," she said, catching her sandal on the edge of the booth's doorway as she took a step in, but not falling.

"Come on. Stop stalling."

Orihime went in, having to duck just a bit at the shorter height inside, already crowding Grimmjow as he sat. It was not a booth for two people, not even two small people, of which Grimmjow was not one. She glanced to the console. Very basic.

He sat against the wall and moved his knee to the side, patting his thigh with a large hand as his other hand moved to the small of her back. "Sit down and tell me how the hell this thing works."

"Oh, well, it's just ..." She left off speaking as she followed part of his instructions, her sandals taking up most of the floor space not already occupied by his work boots. She paused in front of him, now eyelevel with him, the same severe look in his eyes she'd always seen, but now becoming more familiar. Less acidic, less likely to eat a hole through her by merely looking. She looked at his leg where she was supposed to sit, and then turned and planted her denim bottom on it.

"Not so bad of a fit, is it?" he said with a chuckle.

"No."

She looked to the controls that were an arm's length away, conscious in the hot night of his hand at her hip. "Hey!" she chirped when his fingers tightened over her waistband.

"Can't have you falling off," he said, hand softening below her ribs as he pulled her closer.

Her eyes went to the few buttons closing his shirt, tempted to fasten a couple more, but didn't.

In her right hand the take-out menu had crinkled into a roll. A slow smile came to her lips as he grinned at her, the features barely visible in the dim light from the illuminated controls of the console. She lifted her left arm to his shoulder, giggling when he moved away from her dangerously close elbow in the cramped confines.

Her arm settled across his shoulder, hand just below the blue hair falling at the nape of his neck, letting herself ease closer than necessary. "You don't smell like fish."

He shook his head, eyes dropping to her lips. "Frozen loads tonight."

"Oh." She nodded, focusing on him more closely. "I like your face better without the mask."

He was going to say something in return but she was already turning back to the front of the booth.

She set the wrinkled menu to the side of the console and looked over the minimal controls. She moved the toggle for a moment, watching the screen before them where their outlines were dark shades of gray on the lighter gray background.

"This one isn't very fancy, but it'll take a photo." She centered them on the screen. "Two photos?"

"Sure." He looked to the coin slot and dug a hand in a pocket of his cargo pants for the right change, wishing for a moment he'd kept the money on the side she was sitting. He dropped the coins in the slot.

She pushed the toggle for the timer, which lent a flashing red light to the small booth, then looked back to him, eyes going to the shock of blue hair that had a tendency to fall over his forehead, nearly into his eyes.

"It's set. When the light turns green it'll take the picture."

He wasn't looking at the screen.

"Did you have trouble with Ulquiorra today?"

She shook her head, puzzled.

"Did you slap him again?"

"No." Her hand went to her mouth as she thought about the light red mark on Ulquiorra's cheek before he'd left for work that evening. "Oh, no. He met a friend of mine and she thought he was attacking me."

This time his hand at her hip bone was tighter for a longer moment, bringing a yelp from her, the piercing glint in his eyes evident in the darkened booth. "He attacked you?"

"No, she just remembered him from the first time she saw him and it was --"

A flash of green light and then a snap.

He glared at the screen. "Dammit, I thought it --"

Snap.

He lunged for the toggle, nearly ripping it from the console as their images on the screen jerked into a plummet.

Orihime covered his hand with hers and moved the toggle back into position before it could be torn out of the console. "I don't think we were ready yet. Do you want to do another?"

He found another handful of coins and dropped them in the slot. "Set it for four."

She leaned over his knee to reframe them on the screen, feeling his arm encircle her waist far snugger than needed. She'd barely got them centered on the screen than he pulled her back, turning her to face him as the red light began to flash again. His other arm came around her waist, bringing her closer until he was barely an eyelash away. And then closer.

She didn't know when she stopped breathing, conscious only of his nearness as his face lowered to hers, lips pressing against hers in solid contact. Her shock dissolved into response, kissing him back with more intensity than she had experience. The first pressure brought forward an eagerness she didn't know she possessed, surprised not at the strength behind the embrace around her but that it didn't crush or bruise her frailer body, instead holding her tightly in nothing short of possession that felt natural. Her fingers curled against the back of his neck as her mouth followed his, her reservations aside at his unexpectedly tender touch.

There was a blink of green light that neither of them saw and a snap, followed by a few more as he anchored her to his chest, one hand sliding up her back where his fingers embedded in the soft auburn hair that had been tempting him for a week.

No, much longer than that.

Orihime realized suddenly that she wasn't breathing, and needed to. She pushed from him, nearly gasping for air as her heart raced on.

Another snap.

He grinned at her shock, then caught her waist as she made a desperate grasp for the toggle.

"No, no, no," she mumbled, a jumble of thoughts twisting through her mind as she repeatedly jammed two fingers at the print button on the console until it spit out six photos.

Grimmjow pulled her back to him, receiving an elbow to his former Hollow hole. He grunted at the sharp impact. "Watch the elbow, girl."

She was flipping through the photos, quicker and quicker in what was becoming a stop-action skip of them in stages of full color kissing against a pale pink background. Her mouth dropped open in horror. He leaned closer over her shoulder, a rumble of chuckle reverberating against her back as he looked at the photos.

Her shriek filled the booth. "We can't keep these!"

He held up one to the light of the console, grinning at the look of rapture on her face. He couldn't see much of his own face in the photo. "Damn, Orihime, you look like you know what you're doing."

She turned a shocked face to him, the rosy color from the kiss draining into pale stun that blanched her complexion. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, it's not ..."

He took another photo, nodding and grinning. "I like them."

She tried to pull the photo from him without succeeding. "We can't show anyone these."

"I like them. To hell with anyone else seeing them."

She merely shook her head.

His arm came around her shoulder as he placed the photo on the console and tilted her chin to look at him. "We'll get others made."

"I can't, Grimmjow," she said, shaking her head. "These are too..."

The sharpness came back to his eyes. "Not ones like _these_, Orihime. Damn, think a little."

She nodded, taking a deep breath, swallowing forcefully as she tried to rein in her speeding pulse.

"We'll get photos some other time." He set her on her feet as she awkwardly fumbled the other photos in her hands. "Some time when you've got more color in your face. Damn, girl, you look like a fresh Hollow."

The steamy outside air of the night did little to extinguish Orihime's inward glow, but in a few moments of walking her color had returned to the surface. In force.

Grimmjow decided it wasn't a beet red so much as a bright carnation pink. The color of the flowers Ulquiorra had been carting around at the market when he left.

She walked at his side, as much aware of his arm over her shoulder as the first time, but now with her attention on more presonal contact, and the proof of it in her hands. Her breathing had returned to almost normal, but the surreal feeling in her head was still making a spinning sound.

She didn't know what they talked about on the way back to her apartment. At the manager's desk Grimmjow asked for and received Starrk's duffle bag. He gave instructions to the manager -- who easily recognized the description of the Primera -- not to let the man up to Orihime's floor.

At her apartment door she fit the key into the lock and pushed it open, her hand groping for the hall light she'd forgotten to turn on.

Grimmjow leaned one hand on the door frame as she looked to him. "What time does Scissorhands get off work tomorrow?"

"He said he should be back around ten. There're lots of flowers to set up," she said, her voice fading at the way he was looking her mouth. She cleared her throat. "Do you want to come in?"

He nodded, eyes rising to hers. "But I'll let you alone tonight, Orihime. Starrk might swing by my place and I don't want him to start wandering if he can't get in."

"Oh."

She looked down at the photos rolled in her hand, and then up as he reached for them. Her fingers clutched tighter on them.

"Damn, I'm not going to show anyone, Orihime," he said with a grin that made the blush renew across her cheeks.

"But they're so, so ..." she shook her head.

"Give me one."

She sorted through the curled photos, feeling her face begin to redden even more.

"Not that one," he said as she tried to give him one from the first set where he was glaring for the console. "One of the good ones."

She didn't want to look at them any more than she had to, but she figured now she had to. She tried to sift through them without looking at the images directly.

Grimmjow plucked one from her hands.

She started to say something, but stopped when he gave her a pointed look. " ... Okay."

He nodded and gave her a swift kiss on the lips. "I'll see you at nine tomorrow."

He turned down the hall.

She frowned after him. "In the morning?"

"Nine in the morning," he called back.

She sighed and went into the apartment.

For a long moment she stood alone in the dark room, fingers feeling the edges of the pictures in her hands, images of them burning through her mind until her face was flaming a blush that spread to her throat.

It wasn't her first kiss, but she couldn't think of any of the others at the moment.

She didn't want to.


	17. Clean Up in Aisle Nine

It had rained that night, leaving a soggy but sunny day the next morning. Orihime had meant to sleep in -- her first morning alone in over a week that had seemed more like a month -- but she was up early.

She knew it rained because she was awake much of the night, thoughts tossing through her head as she lay curled with a sheet in the muggy night, with her bedroom door _open_. She didn't peek at the photos that were buried beneath her socks in the top drawer of her dresser. She didn't have to. She'd already committed them to memory.

Kissing was natural, she'd told herself dozens of times in the past two hours. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, she'd gone through more uncomfortable moments with him. At least in the photo booth he had his pants on.

The brief time in the changing room haunted her while she brushed her hair before the bathroom mirror after she'd gotten dressed for the day. The changing room had been much more awkward. She quickly finished putting her hair into a ponytail, watching as her face heated to pink extremes before her very eyes in the mirror.

At ten minutes to nine o'clock Grimmjow knocked on her apartment door, and she let him.

"Good morning," she said, closing the door behind him.

"'Morning, Orihime," he said, grinning at the smile she didn't hide. He glanced around the apartment, nodding. "Ulquiorra here yet?"

"No."

"Good."

He followed her into the kitchen where she brought out a carton of apricot juice and then opened wide the window over the sink. A muggy breeze barely drifted in. "Did Starrk come by last night?"

"No. He wasn't at your place?" She poured two glasses of juice and handed him one. She frowned at his hand, several faint red lines at the back of his wrist.

"No sign of him." He drank half the juice in one swallow, watching her sip hers. "You're making him move out today, right?"

"Ulquiorra?" she asked needlessly.

He nodded.

"If he's ready to," she said, resting her back to the countertop edge and sliding away a bit as the glare snapped back to his face. "I didn't give him a timeframe, Grimmjow and --"

"Why not?" he asked sharply.

She shrugged one shoulder. "He hasn't been here as long as you have. Here in the Living World," she clarified. "He's just --"

"He's got his own place, Orihime," he said, setting the glass on the counter behind her, stepping closer, noting she didn't back away. "He doesn't need to be here. I don't want him here."

She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips, but she refused the giggle. "We need to go shopping to get groceries for his place and yours. Oh, and he needs --"

"What's going on between you and Kurosaki?" he asked as his hand settled over hers on the counter.

Her eyes widened. "Kurosaki-kun?"

He nodded, eyes going to her lips as she swallowed.

She didn't want to say it, not to anyone else, but she knew it was true. Her smile turned resigned. "We're friends."

He took the glass from her hand and set it to the counter on the other side of her, keeping her hand in his there. "He came all the way to Hueco Mundo for you because you were friends?"

She nodded, eyes going to each of his, reading the comprehension building in his stare. "He's a very good friend to his friends."

"You've got to admit, girl, he's going to have a problem with me being around you," he said, his face leaning to hers until only inches away.

"He is?"

He nodded, cheek brushing hers as her eyes dropped to his mouth. "With us."

"Us." She felt his breath on lips, and then his lips, pressing firmly, but less than the night before.

He was about to kiss her more fully, and she was ready for him to, but he leaned to her side and snatched the vase of flowers by the sink, muttering banned words.

She grabbed his wrist as the bouquet hovered over the sink. "Please don't --"

"How the hell am I supposed to kiss you with these damn things staring at us?"

Her fingers loosened minutely on his arm. "They were a gift, Grimmjow. He was just being nice." She chanced to move her hand, letting it ease to his shirt that hung unbuttoned over his black tank top below. "You brought me fish, remember?"

He looked to her hand tugging at a buttonhole. "That was different. That was something I thought you'd like." He glanced up to see more of a smile on her face amidst the blush. "You like the flowers, too."

She shrugged. "Most girls do."

He lowered the vase to the counter. "Including you?"

She nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind."

She squeaked an '_eep'_ as his hands closed at her waist and lifted her to sit on the counter. Her hand braced at his chest, knees crossing over each other as he put a hand to either side of her on the countertop and gave her his full attention, frowning.

"Why don't you like the pictures we got yesterday?"

"Oh, well, they're ... just not ..." She returned part of his frown, focusing on the unfastened buttons beneath her fingers to one side of his chest. Her eyes flicked to his as she decided on the best phrasing. "I don't _not_ like the pictures," she said, nodding, "but it's just not something people take pictures of. Not first kisses," she added, cheeks heating to pink as he grinned. "You surprised me, too."

His scowl returned. "Why not us?"

She sat back a little. "I didn't say _not us_, Grimmjow, but it's so ... different. New."

"Of course it's new." He shrugged, looking to where the auburn tendrils of ponytail lay over her shoulder. "Something you could get used to?"

The smile caught her lips at the thought and she looked down to his hand that moved to her knee, his fingers resting over the top of it, nearly disappearing beneath his hand. "I think so."

He felt her knees tighten together under his touch but his hand didn't move any further. "You don't have to be so jumpy, Orihime."

She was about to speak when someone knocked at the door. Now his hand closed firmer on her knee as he shook his head.

"Don't answer it. Just let him wait for a while," he grumbled.

Her fingers had moved to the pocket of his over shirt where a piece of paper was folded. She recognized it instantly, even without seeing the image. Her eyes shot to his. "You brought it _with_ you?"

His hand covered the pocket as she stuffed the folded photo as far in as it would go. "I didn't want to leave it home in case Starrk decided to bust his way in." He took her hand and then swept her off the counter with the other arm. "I told you I wouldn't show anyone and I won't."

She stood as if frozen to the kitchen floor despite the heat. "Do you promise, Grimmjow?"

He nodded, planting a quick kiss on her unsuspecting mouth. "I promise, now go let the bat in."

It wasn't Ulquiorra at the door. Starrk stood there, grinning first at Orihime and then Grimmjow, his appearance of a man who'd spent a good deal of the night carousing.

"You weren't home so I swung by here," he told Grimmjow as he came in. "Oh, I tried to collect my bag at the manager's desk down there, but he didn't know anything about it," he said to Orihime.

"Wrong manager. Your bag's at my place," Grimmjow said as Orihime began to close the door. "You can get it there."

Starrk looked between them, grinning at the faint blush still on Orihime's face.

"Did you find your friend?" she asked, the door meeting with resistance when she tried to shut it.

"Lilynette? No, but I heard there's a few karaoke spots I've missed, so I'll try there next," he said.

Ulquiorra looked in around the half shut door, attention going from the other two Espadas to Orihime behind the door. "Hello?"

She smiled and opened the door wider. "Hi. Come on in. How was work?"

Grimmjow clenched his teeth to remain silent about the pleasantries surrounding him. He watched as Orihime let the third Espada in and proceeded to make breakfast for everyone. It was yet another hour of small talk and her skirting around the table and kitchen while the meal was eaten, all the while the flowers on the counter staring at them all.

By the time it was over Grimmjow felt like his teeth were ground to nubs from gritting them. _There was too much of a good thing,_ he thought, _too much niceness from her to the wrong people._

That had to stop.

Especially with the way Ulquiorra was looking at her as they packed up his belongings in the shopping bags at the desk. That forlorn wet puppy look that made a girl like Orihime want to pat him dry and hug him close while he whimpered.

Grimmjow shook his head. The imagery actually hurt.

* * *

It was near noon by the time Ulquiorra got the key from the landlord and took his first steps as tenant into the apartment above Grimmjow's unit. The place smelled just a little of paint, an airiness to it as a cross breeze blew in from the kitchen window. The main room futon had remained, a bit shabby but usable, and the floor had cleaned up nicely.

Starrk had already claimed the futon as his, sprawling on it with a satisfied nod, sighing contentedly. "Think I'll catch me a nap before I head out for another round of bars," he told Ulquiorra, who was staring at him with less than welcome. "Don't mind, do you? I know you're out to get food and find," he waved a few fingers around, indicating the bare green walls, "stuff to put here, right, Four? I'll just be here."

Ulquiorra watched as Starrk slumped deeper into the cushion, head tilting back and eyes closing. "I guess it's all right."

"I'll get my bag later, Grimmjow," Starrk directed to where he and Orihime stood in the kitchen. He nodded back to Ulquiorra, one eye opening. "You need a fan. Couple of them. Hot today."

"Maybe that's something you can do," Ulquiorra suggested dryly.

Starrk's other eye closed.

Orihime looked up from adding to her list she was writing at the counter. "What flavor of ramen soup do you like, Mr. Starrk?"

"Anything is fine for him," Grimmjow said, unthinkingly putting one hand to his shirt pocket, pressing on the paper inside. He looked to Orihime's horrified face as she shook her head.

Ulquiorra frowned at her. "He's not staying that long, is he? I thought he was going to find Lylinette and then leave with her."

"That's the plan," Starrk drawled, eyes still closed. "But I gotta find her first."

Ulquiorra had his misgivings, but they left the Primera dozing on the futon and headed down the stairwalk outside into the day's blistering heat. Orihime led, her steps slowing as she heard a cat's low mewing, the faint sound meek and young, coming from somewhere below.

"Do you hear that?" she asked as Grimmjow's hand guided her shoulder down the steps.

"Hear what?" he said.

The mewing was a little louder.

"That," she said, craning her neck over the stairs to see into the alley below.

"Some cat," Ulquiorra said, frowning at Grimmjow. "Now that you're _here_ at night we'll probably have every cat in the neighborhood caterwauling at all hours. Maybe you should talk to them."

Grimmjow shot a look over his shoulder. "Shouldn't bother you, sleeping all day like you'll be."

A longer, louder meow sounded and Orihime had to remember to keep walking, but her eyes were on the stairwalk running along Grimmjow's apartment. "It seems loudest here."

Grimmjow didn't speak, merely nodding at the inquisitive look she pegged on him.

Now she stopped, eyes lighting up as she continued her line of thought. "Did you get a cat?" She nodded in answer for him, smile increasing as he gave her his best stony look.

"You _what_?" Ulquiorra asked, pausing on the walk.

"Why not?"

At Grimmjow's voice the meowing turned persistent, a kitten's mad scrambling of paws scratching on the door to his apartment.

Orihime zipped out from under his hand so fast he thought she'd learned a flash step technique everyone had overlooked. She was at his apartment door, crouched, fingers tapping on it. "Hi, little kitty!"

"You pushover," Ulquiorra muttered as Grimmjow glared at him.

Grimmjow was tempted to say more, but resorted to a simple, "Shut up."

He joined Orihime at the door and opened it, carefully, one foot blocking the ball of orange fur that tried to shoot out onto the landing. Behind his shoe the small kitten stared back at Orihime's smile.

"Oh, you adorable little thing," she purred to it, reaching over Grimmjow's foot as he opened the door wider. She scooped up the animal, maneuvering it in her arms as it squiggled to her chest, tail too short to curl yet flicking into a straight line as its downy fur bunched along its back. Orihime cradled it closer despite the bristling paws on her arm, looking to the frown dissolving on Grimmjow's face. "You went back for it?"

He nodded, escorting her in with one hand as Ulquiorra caught up with them. "The first truck was late for unloading yesterday so I went to the pet shop. She was still there," he said, eyes on the kitten rubbing its face on Orihime's cheek, gray eyes on him. "They let me pick it up this morning before the shop opened."

Orihime looked to the kitten, stroking its fuzzy head and mumbling kitten baby-talk to it.

Ulquiorra almost smiled at the sight of the orange tabby bundle in her arms, but a sharp look from Grimmjow changed his mind. "So that's Princess."

Grimmjow clamped his teeth shut, but managed another "_Shut up_" through them.

Orihime looked to him, and then to Ulquiorra, and then back to Grimmjow. "You named her?"

"What else would he name a female kitten?" Ulquiorra said lowly, eyes on the animal now arching its back as it stood on Orihime's arm, looking at Grimmjow with large eyes.

"It's a good name," Grimmjow muttered, "for a cat." He stroked the kitten's back with his fingers, returning its rapt attention, small paw reaching out for him. He didn't take it, and Orihime lifted it higher to him, but he shook his head. "Keep her. I'm going to see what she tore up while I was gone."

Grimmjow didn't have far to go in the modest apartment, but he found the mess in the bathroom. His low cursing came from behind the shower curtain as he cleaned up the shredded toilet tissue that Princess had made into paper mache despite the cat box near the shower.

Orihime stepped to Ulquiorra with the kitten, angling the small animal for him to see better. "She's just a baby, Ulquiorra, still got her fuzz instead of fur. She's soft." She nodded, smiling at him invitingly as his green eyes estimated the ball of fur looking back at him. "Pet her."

He sent a brief glimpse to the bathroom where Grimmjow was still muttering savagely. He looked to the wide eyes of the kitten, and then put two fingers to its back, drawing down the short spine as it rattled a louder purring.

"See?" she said, watching his eyes soften on the animal. "She's friendly. I'm glad he went back for her."

He tilted his head, watching the kitten look to the bathroom, ears pricking back and forth at the words Grimmjow grumbled. "It's soft."

Orihime nodded, which drew the kitten's attention back to her, a sudden awkward movement as it rubbed its head beneath her chin.

Ulquiorra's hand moved away, eyes on Orihime. "She has the same color hair as you."

She giggled. "You think so?"

He nodded, eyes narrowing on the pet.

"They have ... birds and all sorts of pets at the store," she told him, nodding, shifting the kitten in her arms as it grew restless. "Oh, what do you want for a housewarming present? I was thinking about a fern, a big lush fern, but you'd have to water it." She let the kitten down as it made a lunge into midair toward the bathroom. "Good, kitty," she said, watching it pad quietly into the bathroom, slipping under the curtain. She looked back to Ulquiorra. "You have a perfect spot for a fern in your kitchen."

"You don't have to get me a gift, Orihime," he said, watching her brush the few kitten hairs from her yellow tank top. From the bathroom Grimmjow's tone changed to something less livid, something more along the lines the kitten would respond to. Ulquiorra would have chuckled if there weren't other things not so amusing at the moment. He sighed and looked to Orihime. "It's not necessary."

"Oh, but I want to." She looked around the room, spotting the air fern on the coffee table. "I think you could keep a real fern alive, Ulquiorra. Or do you want a pet?"

"Get him a bat," Grimmjow said as he returned from the bathroom, the kitten trotting beside his feet, looking alarmingly small next to him.

"Don't step on her," Ulquiorra said, frowning at the nearness of the Sexta's feet to the kitten.

"I'm not going to step on her." Grimmjow looked to Orihime, a bit of grin replacing his scowl. "Are we still shopping?"

She nodded, eyes on the kitten sidling around his legs, a loud purr buzzing as it moved. "Will she be okay while you're gone?"

He nodded, giving the orange kitten a spare look before glancing back to Orihime. "Got your list?"

She nodded, smiling at Princess, who looked back at her with large eyes.

"Good." Grimmjow stepped over the kitten. "Let's go."

* * *

They found lunch at a kiosk selling assorted finger foods and beverages, all of which need liberal amounts of condiments before they were palatable to the Espadas' tastes after becoming accustomed to Orihime's culinary skills.

They reached the department store at the end of Tsukiji that boasted free delivery with major purchases, which Ulquiorra qualified for after he'd found a futon and lamp stand that he considered adequate. Orihime helped him pick out the linens and pillow, talking up the thread counts and cotton verses blends until he was convinced to purchase the khaki and green bed-in-a-bag bundle set. He also got a couple of spare pillows for Starrk and the eventual appearance of Lilynette, but that was where he drew the line. He left the rest of the Primera's shopping for him to do.

With the bedclothes, futon, and a few kitchen appliances on their way to Ulquiorra's new address, where the intention was to have Starrk accept them, they headed for the supermarket.

It was on the other side of town, away from most of the competition of the fresh fish and flowers the Tsukiji Market offered, but close enough for walking, if a shopper was willing.

Orihime was willing. Her eyes grew wide at the size of the grocery store when they found it. "Wow," she breathed as the entered the brightly lit store of mammoth proportions. "This is enormous. If the market near my apartment was like this, I'd never leave it. They've got everything!"

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra looked the place over, aisles stretching in either direction as Orihime finally considered her list.

"How much should we get?" Ulquiorra asked, looking to an end cap where cases of soda pop were stacked mountain high. "The refrigerators in our apartments aren't very big."

Orihime's eyes had glazed over at the size of the fresh produce section, but her attention snapped to him. "Maybe enough for a week," she said, but then after looking up at Grimmjow and quickly estimating his dietary needs, she added, "or at least a few days. You can always come back and get more."

Ulquiorra nodded, weariness leasing his face as the night, the heat, and now a kitten named Princess caught up with him. "That sounds all right."

He looked to Grimmjow's scan of the store, the larger Espada's Arrancar predisposition still ingrained in his nature. He understood it all too well. He'd spent most of the night setting up flowers and flinching every time someone accidentally over inflated a "Happy 50th Anniversary" balloon to the point of popping. He was still nervy.

Orihime wrestled a shopping cart from the row of others against one wall, deciding the sooner they lost themselves in the aisles away from the children looking from Grimmjow to Ulquiorra with giggles and small pointing fingers, the better and safer everyone would be.

"Come on," she said cheerily, reaching into the back pocket of her tangerine short before recalling Grimmjow had commandeered the list so he could amend it for the new addition to his apartment.

He pulled the list from his pocket, grinning when she watched apprehensively that he got the right folded paper. He shook it out, nodding at her unasked question.

She stood on tiptoe to see the paper he held, sighing.

Ulquiorra looked at them both. "Now what? We just put the items we want in the cart and take it?"

She nodded, pushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "After we pay, of course," she said, eyeing Grimmjow as he reread the list silently. "Produce first?"

After a solid thirty minutes in the green grocer region of the market, during which they'd gotten rained on twice by the sprinklers over the scallions, they moved on to pantry items. It took fifteen minutes to get down one aisle, with Ulquiorra feeling the need to handle each item that looked even remotely interesting, reading the labels, shaking the cans and jars, gauging the weight he deemed inaccurate to the weight listed on the labels, crunching a few plastic wrapped packages of crackers until Orihime kindly suggested he stop it, at once.

And there were a lot of things that piqued Ulquiorra's interest, namely the variety of things on Orihime's list that were dispensed by several different packing and canning companies, each offering the same food, under variously colored labels.

But what caught his attention the most wasn't on the shelves that lined either side of the aisle, or the children that surrounded them a few times to look at him with wonder, or even the few balloons that popped in the floral department somewhere in the store that made him visibly flinch.

Grimmjow saw the movement.

Orihime excused it as exhaustion from lack of sleep during the hot day.

"Let's all take part of the list and get the items on it so we can get," she paused, reading Ulquiorra's wary look, "back to the apartments soon. I know neither of you have to work tonight, but it would be nice to have a little time in your new place alone, right?" she said to Ulquiorra, correcting herself quickly. "Oh, and with Starrk, of course."

Grimmjow leaned over her shoulder as she carefully ripped the shopping list into three parts. "You're so anxious to get back and make his apartment homey," he said close to her ear. "Aren't you?"

Ulquiorra frowned at the other Espada's proximity to her, but noticed she didn't move away. Not even a little. It wasn't the first such instance he'd seen in the hour they'd already been in the store. The Sexta's leg had practically been touching her hip at the radish bin in the produce department, and several times both of their hands had been on the same package of noodles.

"You have a problem with that?" he asked Grimmjow as Orihime handed him a piece of the list.

Grimmjow nodded, straightening as he snagged the part of list she gave him. "Yeah, I do. You can make your own bed and fluff your own pillow, and everything else."

"Grimmjow," Orihime said, her hand on his arm as he nearly crumpled the list in his fist. "I want to help out --"

"Stop crowding her," Ulquiorra warned, eyeing her fingers soft on Grimmjow's arm. "You dare take advantage of her generosity towards you and Princess will be looking for a new owner, understand me?"

Orihime nearly gasped. "He's not --"

Grimmjow leaned over the shopping cart. "Mind your own business. You don't outrank anyone here. Not anymore. She's got her own mind and she can make it up without you horning in. Understand _that_?"

Ulquiorra hadn't been around humans much, just a few, namely one, for any length of time, but he'd studied that one in detail, and as much as Inoue Orihime confused him, he'd learned a few things about her. He didn't like what he saw, but he saw it, nonetheless.

His gaze flicked to her fretful expression, one he'd seen too many times not to recognize, but now there was something else in it, too. He didn't like that, either. His gaze shifted to the list in his hand. Looked simple enough.

"I'm going to find these items."

Before either Orihime or Grimmjow could speak, Ulquiorra was halfway down the canned legumes aisle. She thought quickly of what was on his list, glancing to the signs hanging overhead at the entrance of a few of the aisles. "Most of those items are in Aisles Four and Five!"

"Let him go," Grimmjow said, looking to his own list. "He's just pissed."

"I don't mind helping him set up his place," she said, sighing as she glanced at her third of the list.

"Yeah, that's what bothers me," he grunted, turning to her.

She looked up at him. "Friends help each other."

"You've helped him enough." Her eyes dropped to her list again, and he lowered his voice, leaning to her. "He'll get the wrong idea, Orihime."

It took a moment, but the meaning of his words sunk in, and she met his eyes. She shook her head slowly. "Oh, no, Grimmjow. I don't think so."

He looked to each of her eyes, nodding as she shook her head quicker. Sometimes her naivety was truly deeper than her kindness. He decided it was best like that. Sometimes. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he's just needy."

She frowned, realizing he was joking as he grinned at the few items he'd penciled in at the bottom of his part of the list. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor," she said with a light giggle.

He looked over the aisle to see the sign a few rows over. "I'm going to find this stuff."

She nodded, consulting her own list. "I'll meet you with the basket in a bit."

"Don't get lost."

With that he was gone, and Orihime concentrated on her list. She sighed and pushed the cart down the opposite end of the aisle. _Arrancars sure are a suspicious bunch,_ she thought.

Grimmjow didn't stop or speak to Ulquiorra two aisles over when he passed him. The black haired Espada was actually making himself useful, plucking a few cans of food from the top shelf for an elderly, rheumatism-racked woman who barely came to his waist.

Grimmjow moved on, down the next few aisles, collecting a few of the things listed on the paper in his hand, mostly industrial size bags of rice and noodles in the bulk foods department, and was making his way to the pet food aisle when something reflective caught his eye down another row. He went there.

They weren't mirrors, but there was glass. On one side of the aisle was greeting cards and stationary, balloons and small fake flower arrangements, but the other side was what got his attention.

The frames ranged in size from desk top to notebook size, the dimensions in nearly every conceivable size in-between. Some were brass, some wood, some obviously plastic painted as wood, and others mere cardboard. With a cautious glance down both sides of the aisle, Grimmjow set his four bags of grain on the lowest shelf and took out the photo from his pocket.

He wanted to get the right size frame, even if he didn't hang it on the wall.

He unfolded it to expose the picture. He grinned at Orihime's image, the pink of the background silhouetting her profile that was securely latched to his own. For a moment he lost himself in the memory of her soft hair beneath his hand, her delicate spine under his arm, supple lips responding to his kiss.

He studied her face, unable to see her eyes beneath the thick lashes closed over them, gaze moving to her hand clutching the back of his collar in a tight hold, recalling how her other hand --

"Aghh!" Orihime squealed from his side, startling him into nearly crashing half the frames hanging on the aisle rack. "You said you wouldn't show anyone!"

"I'm not showing anyone," he growled, folding the picture in half, grabbing her arm as she stepped away while at the same time she reached for the photo.

"But you're looking at it!" The color leapt into her face as she looked down both sides of the aisle. "Here," she hissed. "You're looking at it _here_."

"I don't want to get the wrong size," he said, opening the photo again and resuming his search of the frames before them. "Yours are the same size?"

"I'm not going to frame them." She stood closer, trying to fold the photo as he was determined to keep it open. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes moving over the image. "I never did _that_."

He looked to where her gaze was on her right arm in the photo that was crooked under his, fingers pressing into his back. He grinned at the new shade of pink covering her cheeks. "Sure did, sweetheart. That's definitely your hand."

"I don't remember that part," she mumbled. She looked slowly to him. "Don't show anyone, Grimmjow."

Much as he enjoyed the line a pout made of her lips, he'd rather see more joy. He put one hand to her shoulder, fingers gliding up the back of her neck beneath the hair that tumbled from her ponytail. "I'm not going to. I told you that." She looked to him, malleable brown eyes making his voice drop. "I won't, Orihime," he said gently. "I promised you."

She nodded, sighing as his hand slid across her skin. She was about to speak when another voice joined in.

"Since when have you ever kept a promise?" Ulquiorra asked as he came up one end of the aisle, arms full of condiment jars. His attention focused on the paper that Grimmjow had lowered, the photo falling open.

A jar of olives fell to the floor and crashed into splintered glass. Little green rounds rolled across the tile as Ulquiorra's eyes went from Grimmjow's hand behind Orihime's neck to the photo.

Two more jars of maraschino cherries and grainy brown mustard dashed to the floor. A plastic bear jar of honey dropped, but it just bounced to the side.

"You kissed him?" His eyes went to Orihime.

Grimmjow folded the photo and stuck it in his pocket, eyes on Orihime's flaming red face that was starting to drain of color. "Don't go blanching pale on me again," he said.

Ulquiorra had taken a couple steps closer to them, a few of the condiments in his arms managing to remain, a few more falling, denting the metal cans.

"You prefer him?"

Grimmjow should have relished the moment, but there wasn't much satisfaction in it. As pleased as he was by the wreckage in the other Espada's face, it was the mortification in Orihime's that jerked at something inside him. Something left of center in his chest.

She swallowed the dry lump in her throat, conscious of Grimmjow's hand gently taking her arm, aware that the photo was safely out of sight.

Ulquiorra hadn't gotten an answer yet. He frowned at her, ready to chalk the scene up to a bad dream he'd awake from. "Did you want him to kiss you, Orihime?"

She finally nodded to him, smiling faintly. "Yes."

The rest of the jars and cans fell to the floor.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading and reviewing. One or two chapters left!**_


	18. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

It was a hot, sticky walk back to the Golden Blossom Guest Houses under skies threatening rain if the humidity raised another notch. Little was said, but Orihime heard the low growling and heavy sighs from both sides of her. She walked between Grimmjow and Ulquiorra, her arms wrapped around a bag of groceries beginning to wilt in the day's heat.

Grimmjow had three plastic bags of groceries in each fist as they walked, Ulquiorra with another five at Orihime's other side, taking up most of the space on the sidewalk, making the other pedestrians skirt around them. Nobody was getting out of the way.

Ulquiorra was disappointed in her; Orihime could feel it, nearly see it in his face. She didn't know how to make sense of her own feelings, and she wasn't sure explaining them to him would help. Things had changed.

He had changed, Grimmjow had -- so had Ulquiorra -- more so than she thought possible in such a short time. Maybe it was the lack of Hueco Mundo air that made it possible. Maybe it was getting the Arrancar knocked out of him by dying.

She looked to Grimmjow, his features not quite fuming, but less than the usual severity generally seen in his face. Maybe not _all_ the Arrancar knocked out of him, but enough to make him more endurable to the Living society at large.

By the time they got to Ulquiorra's apartment six irritatingly muggy city blocks later they were all damp and hot. The door was open and sounds of metal and springs being worked were coming through it with an occasional muttering.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow traded looks as they all reached the stairwalk landing, and then Grimmjow put an arresting hand to Orihime's shoulder as she moved to peek inside the doorway.

"Maybe he's -- Wait a minute," he said to her as Ulquiorra stepped to the doorway.

Ulquiorra braced himself for witnessing an unfatherly-daughterly moment on his furniture. But it wasn't. He sighed and was about to turn and speak to Grimmjow and Orihime when Starrk gave a loud sigh from inside.

"About time you got here, Four. Thought I was doing you a favor," he called out.

Ulquiorra went in, followed by a curious Orihime as Grimmjow stuck his head around the doorframe.

Starrk sat in the middle of the floor of the main room, the new futon in several large assembled pieces around him, a screwdriver in his hands, wrenches lying about him on enormous clear plastic sheeting and cardboard. On the old futon that had come with the apartment was a high pile of clothing on one side, appearing to be every scrap of wardrobe Starrk had brought with him in the duffle bag.

Ulquiorra frowned. "Are you putting it together or taking it apart?"

Starrk spared him a sour look and resumed unfastening the screw from the spring of one side of the futon, knuckles already scuffed and red. "I already put it together; now I'm taking it apart." He glanced up at the bags in their hands.

"Why?" Grimmjow took the bag from Orihime and shifted it to his left arm. "What'd you do wrong?"

Starrk mumbled a curse. "I'm done doing it wrong. I did it right the last time, but now it's too damn big to get through the bedroom doorway. I assumed you wanted it in there, right, Schiffer?"

Ulquiorra nodded, eyes on the black metal framework. "Oh, yes. Of course."

"Then I gotta take it back apart."

"What'd you get?" Starrk asked, the screwdriver twisting in his hand. "Food?"

Grimmjow let Ulquiorra answer, prodding Orihime ahead of him into the kitchen area where he deposited half the bags on the counter by the sink, the other half near the wall.

"We should put the cold things away first, before they melt completely," she said, making a face at the lone bag of refrigerated items they'd managed to get from the store before the manager had insisted they were done shopping for the afternoon. They'd been found nearing the refrigerated cases of food, the manager trailing them by the red footprints Ulquiorra had left from Aisle Nine in maraschino cherry juice. It was still splashed on his shoes. "We didn't get much. We'll have to --"

"We work at a fish market, Orihime," Grimmjow told her, watching as she sifted through the bag for the few packages of cold foods needing refrigeration. "Don't worry about him."

"Maybe I'm worried about you." She'd barely said it loud enough for him to hear, but he heard. She gave his grin a timid look as she opened the small refrigeration unit and set the few packages inside. "Grocery shopping didn't turn out so well."

"We'll get by." He watched her rummage through the other bags, a clinking sound coming from one of them. "You didn't have to get him that. It'll just get broken."

She held up the wind chime of pink-white shells and gold tone chains, smiling as it made a soft tinkling sound. After the Aisle Nine fiasco they'd made a quick trip through the floral department, where she'd coerced Ulquiorra into helping her pick out a housewarming gift for him, much to Grimmjow's annoyance.

"He chose a pretty one, and he has a nice breeze at the sink here, if he wants to put it in the kitchen," she said, testily holding it up to the open window. A gentle warm breeze mingled among the chains, making the shells bob off each other.

"One good gust and it'll shatter," he said, leaning his back to the counter, watching her eyes smile at the chime.

She rolled it back into the bag and pushed it against the counter wall. "It's tough. It can take it. It's meant to twist in the wind."

"It's not _that_ tough," he added, looking to Ulquiorra as he appeared at the wide archway to the kitchen.

Ulquiorra looked from him to Orihime. "He's still taking it apart."

She turned from the counter and nodded to him. "We can get the mattress dressed, if you like."

He grinned a bit, catching Grimmjow's low snort. "That would be helpful, but you needn't trouble yourself with --"

"It's no trouble," she insisted, slipping past Grimmjow before he could utter a word.

Grimmjow watched her exit the kitchen with the other Espada. Despite Ulquiorra's deliberate phrasing, he knew what dressing a bed really meant. Orihime had already put the new linens on his own futon mattress. He resisted his first impulse and instead joined Starrk in the main room.

Ulquiorra had expected Grimmjow to act on some sort of impulse, too, but the Sexta didn't darken the bedroom doorway, even after a few moments. In the center of the room bare of anything except a small dresser was the new futon mattress, stripped of plastic, just lying there beside a shopping bag of linens topped by two pillows. Orihime pulled the khaki and green comforter and sheet set from the bed-in-a-bag bundle and began unfolding the sheets.

"Hmm, it looks like they only sent two pillows," she mused, frowning at the set as she shook out the sheets. "Didn't you get three?"

He nodded, catching the end of the sheet as she flipped it. "There should be another one."

"Well, maybe it's in another bag."

He watched as she smoothed her side of the sheet, following her example with his side of the sheet.

"Good thing you got a fan."

"Yes, that'll help."

She sighed and pushed a strand of hair out of her face, her sagging ponytail ready to quit on her. In the main room Starrk's grumbling was joined by Grimmjow's low cursing as the futon framework evaded further dismemberment.

"I think I know what you're -- what you were thinking at the store today," she said quietly, eyes on the subtle tones of the sheet design. She caught her lower lip nervously in her teeth, edging up to the conversation she really didn't want to have with him. "But he _has_ changed. Don't you think?"

Ulquiorra sighed, watching her fingers press the sharp creases out of the fold spots of the sheet. "Yes, he has, some. If you're talking about Grimmjow."

She nodded, looking to him hopefully. "He kind of reminds me of Kurosaki-kun sometimes. Oh, but don't tell him I said that," she added quickly, glancing to the doorway.

"Which one?"

She thought for a moment and then knelt at the mattress. "Either of them."

"I won't." He knelt on the other corner of the mattress with her, wondering how she could still smell of peaches even after a whole day of traipsing through the supermarket.

She turned the fitted sheet casing inside-out so that the zippered end was bunched together and proceeded to fit it over the mattress corner. "I guess it's kind of a different type of friendship now. Kind of like it's moved on to something else."

He frowned, pulling up the side of the mattress as she struggled to fit the sheet over it. "Friendships can change?"

She nodded, her ponytail nearly under his nose as they both hovered over the mattress in an attempt to enrobe it in the new sheet. "They can move into something, well, deeper, and they can also dissolve into something less close." She frowned, tugging at the sheet until it had conquered the side of mattress. She pulled it down in sections, scooting away from Ulquiorra as she settled the linen further.

He scooted along with her on his knees, tugging at the opposite side of the mattress with the sheet. "Less close?"

She nodded, eyes and hands on the mattress and sheet. "Sometimes friendships fall away. People change or grow apart. Develop different interests."

"But they can grow closer, too."

He followed her actions as she pulled the fitted side of the zippered sheet to the third corner, but the casing wouldn't allow both sides to be worked at once. He switched sides to kneel beside her, pushing the mattress farther into the sheet casing.

He didn't want to say the next words, but a little clarity went a long way in the Living World. "You think your friendship with Grimmjow has changed."

Her cheeks immediately grew pink, and he had his answer, but she nodded and said, "I know it seems odd. To feel one way about someone for so long, and hope for so long." She shook her head, stuffing the mattress edge into the sheet casing as he held it, pulling the zippered edges together and fastening them tooth by zippered tooth. "I hope we'll always be friends. I always want that."

He nodded, more of a scowl forming on his face as his fingers eased the zipper to the last corner of the mattress slowly being encased in khaki and green linen. "You do?"

She smiled, lifting higher onto her knees as the mattress resisted being folded over on itself under pressure of their work. "Friends are important. Especially friends that have been through so much together."

The sleepless night of work and long day in the hot streets and eventful trip to the supermarket drained Ulquiorra of his resolve. He nodded, sighing as he zipped the last part of the mattress closure, careful not to catch her small fingers in the metal teeth as she pushed on the mattress.

"I see."

She smiled at their accomplishment and sat back on her heels as he lowered the mattress end to the floor. The sheet was pulled tight, smooth over the new bedding. "He'll always be special."

His eyes jerked to hers. "He's _special_?"

She nodded, her bubbly smile accompanied by a soft giggle. "He always will be."

Ulquiorra leaned closer. "Grimmjow will always be _special_?"

Now the giggle turned into a full fledged laugh, her eyes growing large. "Well, I guess, but -- That's not what I meant. Kurosaki-kun will always be special to me."

He frowned, his eye twitching just a bit. "You were talking about Kurosaki?"

"And Grimmjow."

She stood up, and it took a few seconds for him to get to his feet, his mind wrapping around the more confusing angles of what she'd told him.

"All that stuff about your feelings changing from one form of friendship into another -- what -- who were you talking about, Orihime?"

She put her hands to her ponytail and tightened the band there. "All sorts of friendships, Ulquiorra."

He frowned more. "When you said your feelings had changed -- who were you talking about?"

"Well, I don't think he's as scary any more..." she said meekly, raising one shoulder in a shrug.

"Okay, I think that's Grimmjow. But when you said you felt one way for someone for so long ... and then... always wanting to be friends still." He nodded slowly, comprehension slipping over him as her large eyes watched him with the same innocence that had gotten her to agree with him to go to Hueco Mundo. "You were talking about Ichigo."

She nodded, blushing a little. "He isn't interested in me. Not like I always hoped he would be, Ulquiorra, but he's still my friend."

"Like a brother?" _Say no_, he thought.

She nodded again. "Yes. I suppose so."

He wasn't sure why he felt more defeated than before, but he did. "As a _brother_," he said, trying out the word on someone else, "I think Ichigo is going to have a problem with Grimmjow."

She nodded, hands clasping together nervously before her. "Maybe."

"And, as you see me as a brother, Orihime," he said slowly, the fatigue of the night and day drawing at him, "I can say I have a problem with Grimmjow."

A new alertness snapped into her face. "You do?"

He nodded, fighting against what he did and did not want to say. "He's still an Espada."

"But he's not. Not anymore," she said, nodding quickly. "You know he's different now. And he is human. Living."

"But he hasn't changed," he added as a scuffling was heard in the main room. "Not that much."

She sighed, a small smile taking her lips. "Not a lot, not entirely, I know, but some."

He was dead set against admitting it.

"So have you," she added as he began to speak. "It's just part of becoming, well, Living, I guess. Neither of you have to compete to keep your ranks or please Aizen-sama. You can relax and enjoy life a little. It might take a while," she said, looking to the door as Starrk appeared there with a large section of the futon under one arm, a shorter side with a dangling spring in the other. She looked back to Ulquiorra with more of a smile. "There are lots of fun things to do in life."

Starrk was maneuvering the black metal frame pieces through the doorway, banging the doorframe, newly learned curse words trickling from him. Behind him Grimmjow was waiting impatiently with the rest of the frame in two pieces, eyes narrowing on Ulquiorra as he looked at the mattress on the floor and Orihime standing beside him.

"What the hell's going on in there?" he barked at Ulquiorra.

"Damn, Six, not in my ear," Stark grumbled, angling the metal through the doorway at last.

Ulquiorra sighed, watching Orihime step carefully around the newly cased mattress. "Family business," he said.

"Did you ever find Lilynette, Mr. Starrk?" Orihime asked as she tried to take the small end of futon frame from Grimmjow. He didn't let her, handing her the screwdriver and wrenches instead by a few fingers.

"Oh, yeah. She's sleeping in the other room."

Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, and Orihime all looked at each other, and then she wedged herself behind Grimmjow who was still working his way through the doorway with the frame and looked into the main room.

"Where?"

Starrk dropped the framework on the wooden floor, sending an echoing clatter through the apartment.

On the main room futon the pile of clothing flinched. Orihime gave a surprised '_eep_.' "She's under all that stuff?"

"Yup. Oh, she borrowed one of your pillows, Four." Starrk sighed at the futon frame pieces. "Found her this morning. She's all sung out. Soon as she sleeps off her fun -- and has a long shower -- we'll be outta here," he said to Ulquiorra."

Grimmjow glanced out the doorway as Orihime turned back to the bedroom, his eyes resting on the mound of clothing that was shifting slightly. He looked back to Orihime. "You're done here, right?" He nodded before she could answer. "Let's go."

Then she heard it, too. A low, frantic meowing from below. "Oh, little kitty," she said wistfully. She turned out of the doorway, looking to Ulquiorra. "Do you want to hang up the wind chime first?"

Grimmjow growled, drowning out Ulquiorra's answer as he shook his head. "Hurry up."

* * *

Princess tried to zip past Orihime and Grimmjow out the door when they opened it fifteen minutes later, but Orihime was ready for her.

She scooped up the soft wad of orange fluff, cuddling it close as Grimmjow stepped into his apartment behind her. "She's so cute, Grimmjow. See? She doesn't get lost. She waits on you."

He nodded, closing the door and making a beeline for the bathroom. He discovered little mess, and turned back to Orihime as she stood in the center of the room by the futon, holding the kitten close. It purred in an awkward rattle, arching its back and nosing around her neck, its eyes on Grimmjow all the while. Her nose was faintly green from sniffing the air fern. Orihime looked to the plant, but it was still intact in its pot at the coffee table.

"What did you and Ulquiorra talk about?"

Orihime gave Grimmjow a weak smile, deciding the inquiry in his face wasn't quite as caustic as she'd seen before, more genuine curiosity than temper. "You."

This time the growling noise he made wasn't low, and the kitten bristled in Orihime's arms, its small hum of purr turning into a soft attempt at a return snarl.

Grimmjow stopped. "Not you," he said to it, putting a hand to its fuzzy head, rubbing between the ears that pricked forward. He looked to Orihime. "You're done with him now."

She shook her head, arms tightening on the kitten as Grimmjow's stare sharpened. "He's still my friend."

"That's all?"

She nodded, holding Princess to one side of her chest as Grimmjow's arms encircled her waist, pulling her as close as the kitten allowed. This time she was ready when he kissed her, freeing one hand to rest at his chest as his lips pressed to hers, a touch gentler than she thought he was capable of, not the bruising force she'd have thought would come from an Espada.

Her hand roamed higher onto his shoulder as his arms tightened around her, one hand easing up to the back of her neck beneath the tumble of auburn ponytail, until there was a sputter of a squeak from the kitten.

Grimmjow's face turned to look at the fidgeting orange fur in Orihime's arm. "Put her down."

Instead Princess scrambled up his arm to his shoulder, small tail at his ear as she moved to behind his neck and looked over his back.

Orihime smiled and let both her arms wrap around his waist, hesitantly at first, but less bashfully as Princess turned to look at her, leaning to Grimmjow's temple to watch her. Orihime let herself lean to him, returning the kiss he pushed onto her lips, the warmth of the day trading for a different, more welcome contact.

It was a long kiss that sapped her breath and left her with a melting feeling that began to affect her knees, until Princess came to her rescue and pushed her forehead against her eye.

"Dammit," Grimmjow muttered, wiping the kitten's face away, only to have it bat at his hand.

"I should go," she said, still remaining close. "It's going to rain soon, and I want to put your groceries away first, so --"

"Wait out the rain," he said as she slipped away from his arms. He sent the kitten a mock glower as Orihime went to the kitchen counter where the few bags of canned groceries were mixed with the refrigerated items. The kitten rubbed its head on his jaw. "See what you did?"

He looked to the kitchen where Orihime was humming, putting the few packages and cartons in the small refrigerator. There was something homey about her actions, and for once his wasn't the usual opportunistic glimpse of her derrière as she bent to put the canned items in the lower shelves.

Something domestic.

Something he realized he liked.

Then the sound of wind chimes out the kitchen window from the above unit made the sensitive notion sweep past Grimmjow, and he wanted to growl something that would have sent Princess into a spasm of claws on his neck.

Orihime was oblivious to the thoughts crossing Grimmjow's mind. Instead she held up a can of cat food.

"Where do you want the baby food?"

* * *

The rain had set in by the time Orihime and Grimmjow reached her apartment two hours later. It wasn't raining hard, but enough to make them hurry. They arrived more than damp, and she was anxious to change her shirt before it became obscenely clingy.

Grimmjow stayed near the bathroom doorway as she disappeared into her bedroom, the door shut to him as she found a dry shirt. He pulled at the loose shirt he wore that was heavy with rain, tempted to shed it despite the startle it might give her.

She emerged a moment later in a dry yellow tank top, her hair fixed back into a perkier ponytail, a smile on her face as she handed him a tan shirt.

"It was leftover in the laundry, so you have a dry one now," she said, offering him the button-up shirt, her other hand behind her back.

"Thanks." He took it and immediately pulled off the wet shirt.

Orihime leaned against the doorframe, averting her eyes as he changed shirts, a blush seeping across her cheeks.

"Aren't you past that yet?" he asked with a grin, watching her allow a timid peek back at him. "You can look, Orihime."

Her face heated a bit more as she looked back, eyes resting on the area on his abdomen that had once been a Hollow hole. "You really are human -- Living -- aren't you?"

He nodded slowly, studying the thoughtful expression on her face amid the blush. "Yup. Living, Orihime. Just like you."

She nodded, watching his fingers fasten three of the middle buttons on the tan material. "It still seems so ... different, seeing you as a Living person now."

He tossed the wet shirt into the bathroom, where it landed to hang over the shower curtain rod. He leaned closer to see her face in the poorer light of the hall, the rain outside making a gray cast over her apartment. "Can you get used to that?"

She nodded, smiling a little, eyes drifting over the fit of the shirt over his shoulders, to his face devoid of the bone mask she'd learned to fear six months ago. "I can."

"Good." He saw her hand move behind her back. "What have you got in your hand?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh, these were in the laundry, too." She sheepishly pulled her hand from behind her, showing him the pair of navy boxers he'd left at her apartment when he'd moved out. "I forgot to bring them to your place earlier."

He nodded, and was about to take them when a different look descended upon her face. He wasn't sure what it was, what was in it, but it was more than alarm, more than panic.

"Oh, no ..." she said, not the usual words she voiced when she felt the familiar reiatsu.

"What is it? Are you sick?" Grimmjow put a hand to her cheek, fingers lifting her chin as he frowned.

"No. No ... It's ..."

A sudden pounding at the door broke off her speech for a catch in her breath. He was about to ask more when she put a hand to his chest, fingers gripping in the tan cotton.

"Are you ready to ... accept my friends?"

Another louder, more insistent knocking.

"Orihime?" Ichigo's voiced called. "Are you home?"

Grimmjow's head snapped to the apartment door, eyes glinting at the voice as his hand dropped to Orihime's shoulder, fingers gripping too tightly.

"Ow."

He glanced down at her, hand loosening as she gave him a feeble look.

His hand slipped from her and he strode to the door.

"Wait!" she said as loudly as she dared, skipping up to meet him before he could reach the door. "You promise to let things go? Everything in the past, and everything --"

"Hell, no," he said dryly, biting back other words. "Not everything."

She stepped around him as he reached for the doorknob, her hand on his as he gripped the knob, her face imploring. "Most everything?"

He wanted to quip out a slew of things, partly because he knew the voice on the other side of the door was the one that had gone through much trouble to best him in Hueco Mundo, had sent him to his death and hence the Living World, but mostly because he also knew Ichigo Kurosaki had cared about the auburn-haired girl with the sweet smile standing in front of him enough to brave Aizen and the hordes of Hueco Mundo to rescue her.

And he'd have to face Ichigo periodically if he was going to remain a part of Orihime's life, and _that_ was something he was unswervingly determined to become.

He nodded slowly, watching her smile widen, brown eyes light up at his answer. He took his hand from the knob as her fingers wove between his, squeezing gently. "Let him in."

Orihime's hand fell from his so she could open the door, the boxers still in her other hand, forgotten.

Ichigo looked back at her from the hall, his blue t-shirt soaked and hanging, orange hair plastered to his head.

"Ah, Kurosaki-kun, you're wet," she said, stepping back as he came in, Grimmjow to her side.

Ichigo's attention was on the kitchen counter. "Hey, we missed you at the beach. Rukia met us there. Is your cold better? You got flowers; were you that sick?"

"No. I thought you were camping." She closed the door as he frowned at the vase of flowers, almost able to feel Grimmjow's glower from over her shoulder.

"Yeah, we got rained out. Yuzu said she seen you at the park. Said some guy --" he said, turning to look at her, his gaze catching sight of her guest. For a moment his eyes widened in earth shattering surprise, every shinigami reaction lurching into forward motion even as they were shot down by Grimmjow's defiantly fierce glare from Orihime's side.

"What the hell are ... What ..." He stuttered several of the words on the fish pad list, bringing a few in return from the Espada.

"... you shit head, ass --" Grimmjow said despite Orihime's hand suddenly locking onto his elbow.

"Please, Grimmjow, you --" she said.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Ichigo yelled at Grimmjow. He grabbed Orihime's shoulder, but she put a hand up, an inadvertent cuff to his chin that made him take another look at the Espada.

"He's okay. He's --"

"Grimmjow?" Ichigo looked to her with surprise. "Okay?" He frowned in confusion at the Espada, taking a longer, more thorough look at him. A chuckle broke from him as he realized there was something less than lethal about the situation. He pointed at him, finger wagging.

"It's okay, Kurosaki-kun," she said quickly as a growl surfaced from Grimmjow, his arm tensing in her hand, moving a step closer to Ichigo, crowding her between them. "He's okay. My friend. He's --"

"Ha!" Ichigo pointed at Grimmjow, a snort and laugh erupting from him. "He's got no mask!"

"Shut up!" Grimmjow reached for the other guy until Orihime pressed her back to his tan shirt, pulling his arm before her to cradle in both arms.

"He's nice to me," she said by way of explanation, smiling as the arm snugged to her waist, fingers pressing to her side.

"He's _Grimmjow_!" Ichigo stuttered.

"Yeah, so what? She likes me." He grinned at his former opponent. "Got that? _Me_, Kurosaki."

Ichigo looked from him to Orihime, frowning, disbelieving his eyes, attention falling to her fingers pressing at the back of the arm around her, then up to the smile on her face. "But he's dead."

"This is where Arran --- Espada -- go when they die," she said simply, smiling hopefully at his realization.

"Here? The Living World?" Ichigo shook his head, the surreal feeling swamping his mind being replaced by the contented look on her face. "Why not Hell?"

"Nnoitra went straight to Hell," Grimmjow said.

"Yeah," Ichigo said slowly, nodding, blinking at Orihime a few times, "yeah, I can see _that_." He looked sharply back to Grimmjow. "But why are you here? At her place?"

"He's been ... He was ..." She sighed, Grimmjow's fingers at her side pressing softly. "He's adjusting. It's been about a week and a half, and he's doing well. Oh, he even has a pet."

Grimmjow's glare on Ichigo had only diminished a degree, maybe two, but he was finding it hard to maintain a foul mood when the scent of Orihime's peachy shampoo was right under his nose. He sighed, feeling her settle closer to his chest. "Admit it, shinigami; I'm here. You're going to have to get over it or go around it."

Ichigo scowled deeper, watching Orihime's hand clutch at the arm around her. He looked back to Grimmjow. "No mask. Just human?"

Grimmjow nodded, but Orihime felt the rumble of a growl in his chest at her back.

"You're, you're okay with him being here?" Ichigo asked her, his tone taking on a different concern now. "It's okay with you?"

She nodded, watching his eyes become less somber. "Did Yuzu tell you she saw him? At the park. We didn't exactly make introductions, but I think --"

"Yeah, that's why I'm here." He shook his head. "She said some guy matching his description saved ... eh, that damn Kon from some boys."

She nodded. "See? Even Yuzu understands."

That was enough for Ichigo. Almost. "He's been ... Well, I guess -- Hey," he said, frown snapping back into place as he looked at her hand, "are those boxers?"

Orihime looked down at the navy material in her hand. She shoved them beneath her arm at her other side. "...No."

"Oh. Okay," he said, suspicions still high.

"Are you done?" Grimmjow asked, staring down Ichigo's bewilderment. "Got enough answers?"

"Grimmjow," Orihime said lowly, looking up at him.

"He's getting too damn nosey," he muttered, eyes still on Ichigo. "You don't owe him any answers." He looked down at her, frowning as his inquiry turned more personal. "Do you?"

Ichigo shook his head slowly. "Orihime, you want him here? I mean, _here_?"

She nodded.

"You're okay with all ... this?"

She nodded, smiling more. "I'm sure."

Ichigo looked to Grimmjow. "I guess if she's okay with it. If she's happy." He sighed. "I guess its okay, in some ..." He shook his head. "Okay, then."

She smiled wide as he put a hand on the doorknob. "Oh, how was camping?"

He looked back as Grimmjow released her and let his hand drop to take hers. "Wet. Lots of rain. We came back early." He shook his head again. "Damn, I was only gone for a few days and all this ... this shit goes down."

She stepped to the door as he opened it and went out, his pointed stare still on Grimmjow behind her. "Tell Yuzu I said hi."

"Yeah, I will."

"And Karin."

"I will." Ichigo was still looking at Grimmjow, returning the Espada's glare. "Be good to her."

"I know what I'm doing, Kurosaki," he growled.

"Be nice to --"

"I am nice to her."

Ichigo pointed a finger at him, wanting to add something, but unable to find anything lethal enough he could repeat in front of Orihime's endearing smile

"I mean it," he said.

Grimmjow nodded.

Ichigo shook his head, making a few drops of water shake loose, and left down the hall, pulling the door shut after him.

Orihime turned to Grimmjow, sighing as he plucked the boxers from her hand and took her in his arms, this time no kitten to break them away from each other. He reached behind her and twisted the door's deadbolt lock.

She smiled as he lowered his face to hers, a slow kiss meeting her lips that brought her arms around his neck.

"No more company tonight," he murmured, feeling her fingers play at the nape of his neck just below the blue hair. "Got it?"

She nodded, her sigh brushing against his cheek, lips moving to his as his arms grew stronger around her. "Got it."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who read, favorited and reviewed this story, and especially to the reviewers: _Gosurori-Otaku, xXHitsugayaXx, Samebito Ryu, Not So Anonymous, Kumo the wolf alchemist, errihu, venG, Nehan Shinzui34, Britt-Ulquiorra, darkness surrounds me, UlquiorraxOrihime, Only if you wish it, bleachlover, Blu inu, topmia, HOTTEST-VIP-ELF-__SONE__, Bitchy Red Head, TheEncryptionKey, Cheshire Cat, tomia, figgy pudding, 4differentpersonalities, iPocky, Hmegimi-chan, Ryokokalinchan, Lauren, dustori, Tiny Cherie, Kenpachi Ikari, LolWorthy, annabelle, uogcraze, Shadowstep-Prime, chancewriter, smellypants, Waca, AmIOtaku, ShadowAngelCora, moxious, DrakonGurl, LilBrokenDolly, Kiichigo*, CatgirlKitsune, NinjaLuffer1215, poohxebony, YaoPrincess16, bleachUlquiGrimm, UlquiorraNoKokoro, Karasu, angelicdemonPRINCE, and labyrinth of chaos. _

Thanks so much!


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